


Undercover

by ChristianVega



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Adult foxes, Alternate Universe, Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, M/M, POV Neil Josten, Parental David Wymack, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristianVega/pseuds/ChristianVega
Summary: Neil is a private detective going undercover to infiltrate an organized crime family suspected of gambling and trafficking drugs. Andrew Minyard is the leader of that family.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The former FBI agent turns his shark eyes towards me, the gaze of a predator zeroing in on his target. I imagine the countless criminals who probably squirmed under such an intense stare, but it takes more than that to get under my skin.

“What do you want?” I ask him, making myself comfortable on the brown faded leather couch in his office. Some of the stuffing is coming out of the middle cushion but he’s too stubborn to part ways with the sofa. He’s sitting behind his desk, the only other surface in his office not completely covered by books and file folders.

He taps his fingers on his closed laptop. “It’s time for a UCO.”

“A what now?” I raise an eyebrow at the unfamiliar term. I keep reminding him that I don’t speak cop but I guess old habits die hard.

“An undercover operation.” He spells it out for me but it doesn’t make me any less confused.

“You want me to go undercover? Is that your idea of a joke?”

In the two years I have worked for David Wymack, he has never made a joke, and this is not a good way to start. He has always been the no-nonsense type.

“No,” Wymack answers. “This is not a joke.”

I sit up straighter and shake my head. “I can’t go undercover. That’s crazy.”

“Look,” he says, leaning on his desk with both elbows. “Neil, this isn’t me asking, it’s me telling. You’re the only one who can do this.”

To be fair, I don’t know any of the other people working for Wymack Investigations. As Private investigators, we all like to stay private. So it might be true that no one else is suitable in Wymack’s eyes for this job he has in mind. It still doesn’t change the fact that this is a ridiculous idea. 

“That’s not in my job description,” I counter. I’m certainly no federal agent. I may have studied criminal justice in school but I didn’t pay attention to anything about undercover operations. I didn’t think it was something I would need to know.

“This city’s drug problem has become an epidemic. And I think I might have an idea who’s behind a large part of it. But I can’t prove anything.”

Old habits really do die hard. During his time with the FBI, Wymack specialized in organized crime and drug enforcement. 

“So you want me to go undercover as a drug dealer or something?”

“Something like that,” Wymack confirms. “We need to act immediately or we’ll lose our chance.”

“Our chance at what?” I pull a cigarette out of my pocket and place it between my lips.

“Don’t smoke in here,” Wymack scolds me before I can even think of lighting up. “Abby will kill me if she smells that on me. I quit two months ago after she nearly nagged me to death.”

I shove the cigarette back in the pocket of my jeans. “Tell me what you’re planning exactly. What is it you want me to do?”

“I got a tip about a family that’s trafficking drugs and running some illegal gambling. I believe they’re in deep with organized crime. If you go undercover and infiltrate their organization then we could find out who’s supplying their drugs and get a lot of shit off the streets.”

He’s opening his laptop, presumably to show me information about the family in question. But I’m already moving towards the door. I’ve made up my mind that I’m done listening to his crazy ideas. He can’t seriously expect me to agree to this.

Wymack puts his hand on my shoulder as I grab the doorknob. His touch catches me off guard and makes me flinch before I can stop myself. He backs off immediately, taking a step back and putting his hands in the air as a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Don’t walk away yet. Hear me out, Neil. You owe me that at least.”

I sigh, knowing I can’t deny him. He gave me this job when I was fresh out of school, gave me a chance when no one else ever looked twice at me. “Fine, but wouldn’t you rather get someone more qualified for this type of thing?”

“This plan doesn’t thrill me,” he admits. “But it’s all I’ve got. There’s no one else who can do this.”

I hate the sense of obligation I’m feeling. It’s what makes me sit back down on the couch to listen even though I’m pretty sure I’ll regret it.

“Why do you think I’m the only one who can do this?” I question. “Have other people tried?”

He takes a seat at his desk again and types a couple things into his laptop. “Yeah, and let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

“That’s comforting.”

He’s not amused by my sarcasm. He never is. “If you were an undercover agent, you’d receive an operations order from the FBI, but you’re not so I’ll tell you what I think you need to know.” He turns his laptop around so that I can see the screen. There are pictures of several people, most of them grainy low-tech security footage or blurry cell phone pictures snapped from a distance. I study the faces the best I can despite the poor quality, trying to commit the images to memory. “This is the Minyard family. They are rumored to have ties to the mafia. They’re reportedly trafficking drugs and running illegal gambling books. No one can get any solid proof of that though. And no one knows who their supplier is.”

“You said people have tried to get evidence and that it hasn’t gone well. How ‘not well’ are we talking about here?”

Wymack doesn’t sugar coat it. “Dead, or disappeared.”

“Shit…” I really don’t want to take this job. I’ve never dealt with stakes as big as this before. I’d be risking my life if I take this on.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you unless I thought you could do it,” Wymack insists. “I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, you know that.”

“It’s a lot to ask of someone, Wymack,” I tell him. “Who’s paying me for this?”

“The FBI is offering a reward for information leading to a conviction. Fifty-thousand dollars.”

Damn, that’s one good pay day. Am I seriously considering taking Wymack up on this crazy offer? “Theoretically, how do I infiltrate them?” How am I going to make sure I’m not another dead or missing person like the others who tried?

“You’ll have a solid backstory. In the FBI, we called it backstopping. We fabricate a story with fake documents to support the undercover operation.”

“They better be some damn good fake documents.”

Wymack turns his laptop back around and promises “They’ll be flawless. Does that mean you’ll take the job?”

I think Wymack’s insanity is beginning to rub off on me. “Yeah, I’ll take the job.”  
\---

Wymack’s brief instructions didn’t include how to dress for infiltrating a drug trafficking organization. I stare at my meager wardrobe for a few minutes before I settle on jeans, a black hoodie, and my favorite work boots. I throw my denim jacket on over the hoodie before making my way into the bathroom to check my appearance in the cracked mirror above the sink.

Sometimes looking in the mirror makes me cringe because I swear I can almost see my father staring back at me. I despise how much we look alike.

After deciding I look as ordinary as possible, I grab the keys to my Toyota Carola and head out the door of my shitty apartment. I don’t have many belongings, but I lock the door behind me anyway. The last thing I need is someone wandering in and finding notes to confidential cases.

I park down the street from my destination and make my way down the sidewalk. It’s just past midnight, but it’s true what they say, the city never sleeps. People hurry past me, swaying drunkenly and chattering loudly.

I stop outside the bar and take a deep breath. Eden’s Twilight. I’m going in alone. It’s not like in the movies where you wear a wire and the police are ready to save you if shit starts going sideways. I didn’t even bring my gun. I have a permit to carry it, but if I ever have to use it to defend myself it leads to a lot of paperwork which I prefer to avoid whenever possible.

After some of the crazy shit I’ve survived, this shouldn’t scare me at all. Still, I can feel my heart beating fast with anxiety and my palms are sweating in my pockets despite the freezing temperatures outside.

Finally I force myself to reach for the door and step inside. Might as well get this over with.

I head straight for the bar area, determined to grab a stool on the outside so that I don’t end up trapped in. Is anyone looking at me as I make my way inside? A quick glance around says not really. 

The whole place reeks of alcohol, marijuana, and cigarette smoke. There are people all around talking and drinking and dancing. It appears at first glance just like any other little bar in the city, but I know that it’s far from it. Normal people don’t come here, only criminals.

‘Act like you belong here,’ I remind myself. ‘Don’t attract attention.’

I motion at a nearby bartender to order a drink. It’ll help me to blend in so I can observe. Today’s goal is to listen and be careful not to stare.

I immediately recognize the man behind the bar as being Nicky Hemmick, the owner of the club. The pictures on Wymack’s computer weren’t good quality, but they served their purpose.

I order a whiskey and coke. Nicky immediately cards me. Now that I’m twenty-four years old I don’t often get carded. I’m convinced that he’s not interested in my age but my name. He wants to know who I am. The bar is probably full of familiar faces and I must stand out like a sore thumb to him.

I remain calm and hand over the fake ID Wymack gave me, trying for a bored expression. The name on my card says Nathaniel Wesninski, not the most clever fake identity but it should work.

Nicky stares at my ID for what seems like forever before handing it back to me with a quick nod. He’s grinning cheerfully as he hands me my drink. “You new around here?” he asks me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Sort of,” I shrug. If they search my fake name online they’ll find some bogus articles about me robbing a gas station and getting caught with drugs. According to the articles, I served a short jail sentence, then went on to rob a bank. It goes on to say I went missing after that and am suspected to be on the run hiding out somewhere.

“Looking for work? We might be hiring.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. I don’t think that Nicky is talking about bartending. “Yeah, actually I am. You got anything good?”

He looks at his phone for a moment, I assume searching my name, because when he looks at me again he asks “You got sticky fingers?”

He means do I steal things. I give him a casual shrug. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I might have a job for you. Give me your phone number and I’ll give you a call later with the details.”

He hands me a napkin and a pen. I make sure to write down the number for the burner cell phone Wymack supplied me with, rather than my actual phone number.

Nicky pockets the napkin then walks away, disappearing into the crowd of people dancing.

I finish my drink before heading home. I’m still tense and vigilant the whole drive, only relaxing when I’m safely inside my apartment. I looked around about a million times to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I lock the door and strip down to my t-shirt and boxer briefs. I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

When I wake in the morning, I reach for my phone. There’s a text message from Wymack asking ‘Alive?’ I text back ‘Yes.’ Then I check my burner phone, flipping it open to find a voice mail from a number I don’t know.

I hold the phone up to my ear and hear Nicky’s voice when I press play. “Call me if you’re still interested in that job.”

I immediately hit the button to call back and he answers on the third ring. “Hemmick here,” he says.

“Nicky,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is Nathaniel Wasenski calling about that job you mentioned. Is the position still available?”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you called. I’ve got the perfect job for you.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, sitting up and reaching for a notebook and a pen on my nightstand to write down any important information.

“There’s a friend of mine who’s going through a divorce. His bitch of an ex-wife is keeping his car from him. Maybe you can help bring it back to its rightful owner?”

He’s asking me to steal a car. This would certainly not be approved by Wymack. But how can I say no? If I say no, they might start to suspect me. I can’t have that. If they find out who I am, they’ll probably kill me instantly.

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” I say.

“Good, write down this address. She’s going to be away on a business trip tomorrow night. That’s going to be your best opportunity.”

I write down the address he mentioned and the address he says the car should be delivered to. 

“My friend will pay good money for this if the job’s done properly,” he assures me. “You’ll get your cut and I’ll get mine.”

“Alright, no problem,” I tell him, as if I’ve done this a thousand times before. “I’ve got this.”

“You’d better.” He hangs up then and I reach for my Iphone to call Wymack.

I explain the situation to him and he doesn’t seem as shocked as I thought he would. “It’s a test,” he says. “Of course they’re going to test you to make sure they can trust you.”

“What do I do?”

This was all Wymack’s idea after all so he better have some answers for me.

“Steal the car.”

“What? Wymack, you can’t be serious.” Has he totally lost his mind? Is this some sort of midlife crisis?

“A couple days later the cops will come and get it. I’ll give them an anonymous tip. No one will know.”

It’s a big risk. I don’t like this at all. I’m risking getting in trouble or getting killed if I’m caught stealing a car. And there’s a possibility that Nicky could suspect me in the end if the police come and take the car back later.

“I’m counting on you to cover my ass.”

“Consider your ass covered.”

I really hope those are not the famous last words I hear before getting shot to death. “Fuck you, Wymack,” I say.

“Fifty-thousand dollars,” he reminds me. “You’ll be thanking me for this.”

I’ll be lucky if I get out of this undercover operation alive.


	2. Chapter Two

I sit at the bar and pretend to check my burner phone for messages, knowing there are none. I need to look busy so I can watch and observe without anyone noticing. My plan today is to avoid talking too much, so that I can listen more. My plan quickly goes out the window with the approach of Nicky Hemmick.

“You actually did it,” he says. I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. At first glance, Nicky seems very laid back and carefree. But I can tell that he’s constantly analyzing me, and it makes me want to look away awkwardly. He’s clearly smarter than he seems. I have to be careful around him.

“Of course,” I answer, as casual as I can. “It was easy.”

The job actually was a lot more simple than I thought it would be. No one was home. I picked the lock into the garage and hot wired the car. I could probably hot wire a car in my sleep. “Consider me impressed,” he says, giving me a playful grin. His eyes say that he’s still calculating, trying to figure me out. “Let me get you a drink, my treat.”

“Sure,” I agree, shrugging. I can’t turn him down and upset him. He could be a very valuable source of information.

“Whiskey and coke like last time?” he asks, reaching for a glass.

“Yeah, you have a good memory.”

He smirks, not exactly confirming or denying the fact. He hands me my drink then grabs an envelope from a drawer and starts counting out money. He hands me the cash, five hundred dollars, my share of the profit for stealing the car. It’s not a bad pay day, but I’m not keeping the money. I’ll be turning it into the police.

“Keep the good work up and you’ll fit in just fine here.”

“Thanks, man.”

I take a sip of my drink, and realize with a sinking feeling that I’m being stared at. I guess everyone wants to know who the new guy is and what kind of criminal acts I’ve committed in order to earn this money from Nicky. Maybe some of them are even worried I’m their competition. Shit…

This is too much attention. I don’t like this at all. I need to look for an escape. How can I get away quickly without raising suspicion?

I needed to do the job for Nicky well so that he wouldn’t become suspicious, but I also have to be careful people don’t decide to eliminate their competitor when their competition is me. I’m not dealing with amateurs here. These people know what they’re doing and they do it well. If they didn’t, they would have ended up in jail long ago. I know that the Minyard family has to have all kinds of connections in order to make sure they don’t end up in prison. The thing is, nothing is truly unbreakable including criminal organizations. Their time will run out eventually. These people need to be stopped, and I think that I can be the one to bring them down if I just play my cards right.

With all eyes on me and the cash in my hand, I’ve also caught the attention of the alleged leader of the Minyard empire, Andrew Minyard. The short file on him stated that he’s twenty-five years old and has a dead twin brother. The more I learn about these people, the more I see why Wymack thought I would be the right man for the job.

‘This guy is a weapon,’ Wymack had warned me about Andrew. ‘He’s extremely successful at what he does. He’s never been caught for committing any crimes so far. No one can pin anything solid on him. We can’t even prove he’s the leader, but that’s the rumor. See if you can get close enough to find out, get the proof.’

He’s looking at me, questioning and calculating like his cousin. I guess it’s now or never. I don’t want to lose my chance. Before I can make my way towards him, he takes a seat next to me. He turns towards me and I feel a rush of adrenaline, knowing that he’s my main target and a very dangerous criminal. It’s a mix of excitement and nerves. I am determined to take this guy and his whole organization down.

Andrew Minyard is dressed in all black from his shirt to his shoes, a tight fitted long sleeved shirt, showing off his muscles, and a pair of black jeans with motorcycle boots. 

“Nathaniel, is it?” he asks me.

I nod. “Yeah, but most people just call me Neil.”

He cracks his knuckles. “Are you a cop?”

My stomach does a somersault the way it does when you’re on a rollercoaster careening down a steep hill. I can’t afford to panic unless I want to get myself killed. They probably ask all the new people this same question, I tell myself. They can’t possibly be onto me already, can they? 

I make a face at him, unimpressed and slightly annoyed. “No, are you?”

His grin is razor sharp. Everything about him screams predator. “No.”

“Good,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. I reach into my pocket and pull out a cigarette, lighting it up. Everyone else seems to be smoking and disregarding rules, so I might as well blend in. “You wanna’ smoke?” I offer him one.

“Sure.” I hand him my cigarette then light another for myself. “I’m Andrew. You know my cousin, Nicky?”

He already knows the answer to this no doubt. There’s no way Nicky didn’t already mention me. “He’s cool,” I say.

He nods. “What are you doing around here?”

“Looking for work.”

This seems to be an acceptable answer because he gives me another quick nod of approval. The noise of a cell phone with a factory default ringtone cuts off any more conversation we might have had. He pulls a flip phone out of his pocket, not much different than my own burner phone. “What?” He questions the person on the other line. He listens for a moment before giving me a quick wave of dismissal and disappears into the crowd, speaking in German into his phone.

I haven’t even finished my drink but I’m starting to feel nauseous. I look around, finding no sign of the other people in his family and take the opportunity to make my escape for the night.

I’ve just gotten into my apartment and kicked off my boots when Wymack calls me. “How’s it going?” he asks. “Did you find out anything useful yet?”

“Not exactly,” I admit. “But I met Andrew Minyard.”

“Damn, well that’s a start kid. Keep at it, alright? And be careful.”

“I appreciate the concern,” I say. My tone is sarcastic, because I never discuss my feelings with Wymack, but my words are actually genuine and I believe Wymack knows that deep down.

“I’ll check in with you again soon.”  
\---

I spend the next few days getting evidence for a client who wanted proof his wife was cheating on him. It was an easy surveillance job and a quick report, just enough cash to pay a couple bills. I need to keep my electricity on and pay the rent on my shitty apartment somehow until I can crack this case and get a bigger paycheck. Then it’s back to Eden’s Twilight, hoping I don’t get eaten for dinner by a bunch of monsters.

“Thief,” Nicky greets me. “Same as usual?”

Being called a thief wouldn’t usually be a compliment, but I know that it is when it’s coming from him. He says it with a very affectionate tone.

I nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

Now that I’m starting to fit in, I can breathe a little easier but I can’t ever let my guard down. All it would take is one slip-up and I’ll be dead.

Everyone stops for a moment to look at Andrew as he walks in. He’s dressed in all black like last time, a few rain drops drying on his leather jacket. He sits next to me but doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead he turns to the tall man sitting on the other side of him. “You fucked up,” Andrew tells him abruptly. “If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t get away with it.” He pokes him in the chest with his index finger, leaning in towards him menacingly. “I know you’re going to make us twice as much money next time, aren’t you?”

The other man doesn’t seem too startled. “Yeah, of course.”

“This better not happen again, Matt.”

“Go suck a dick, Andrew.”

I’m doing my best to listen without it being noticeable, studying the interactions between Andrew and his people. I’m hoping they’ll say something important. The sudden disrespect from Matt has me startled.

“Fuck you,” Andrew responds, scowling. Nicky hands him a glass of what appears to be vodka and he practically inhales it.

“You’re too uptight,” Matt continues. “You need to get laid.”

Andrew sets the empty glass down with a loud thud on the bar. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Matt scoffs. “As if. You’d go broke without me.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Everyone’s replaceable, even you.”

Matt frowns and mutters “I’m going to piss.” As soon as he leaves, Andrew seems to notice that I’m sitting near him.

“Neil,” he says. “You’re back again.”

Wymack is going to be pissed if I don’t get any information or news to share with him by the time he checks in with me again. Unfortunately for me, social skills are not a talent of mine. The easiest jobs are the ones where I don’t have to make much conversation, background checks and surveillance from my car. Trying to make useful conversation between myself and a criminal is not an easy task. I can’t just ask him about his crimes. I’ll have to work for the info. It will take time. I have to be careful.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I would have said hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with that guy. It seemed important.”

I think that I recognize Matt from one of the grainy security camera photos in the files on Wymack’s computer, but I can’t be sure. 

Andrew confirms it for me. “That was my buddy Matt. It was nothing important.”

The file said Matt is often seen around Andrew and Nicky and that he’s engaged to a woman called Dan. There was no picture of his fiancé in the files.

Before I can respond, Andrew is up and running. There are two men near the pool table in the back shouting at each other. Andrew grabs one of them and punches him in the face. Even from my spot on the barstool, I can hear the sickening crunching sound as his fist makes contact with his face, no doubt breaking the stranger’s nose. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” Andrew demands. “Now!”

The guy has his hands to his face and there’s blood dripping down all over his shirt. He says nothing, just stumbles outside. 

Everyone is watching silently now but Andrew barely seems to notice the attention, calmly taking out a cigarette and making his way back to his barstool.

With a display like this, it seems to confirm that Andrew is the leader around here. But there’s still no proof of that.

“I had a bet on that guy to win the fight,” Nicky complains to his cousin.

Andrew exhales smoke in his face. “I saw him reaching for his gun. Did you feel like cleaning up a murder tonight? I sure as shit didn’t.”

“I lost twenty bucks,” Nicky says.

“You idiots bet on everything around here,” Andrew mumbles, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Hey Thief,” Nicky turns to me. “You interested in another job?”

“Sure,” I agree, despite the sense of dread I feel. What illegal activity is he going to ask me to do now? Will I be able to pull it off?

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. He hands it to me and I resist the urge to look at it right away.

“Thanks man,” I tell him. “I won’t let you down.”

I take the opportunity to leave, knowing I’m past due to check in with Wymack. As soon as I get back to my apartment I open up the paper and look at the details of the crime I’m supposed to commit now. There’s an address listed and the description of a painting I need to steal. I call Wymack and let him know how the evening went. He promises me he can cover me, encouraging me to go through with the theft. 

“I didn’t take this job to become a criminal like them,” I say. “This better be worth it.”


	3. Chapter Three

Stealing the painting is slightly more complicated than stealing the car. I have to go around the security camera, enter the password to disable the alarm system, and carry the painting back to my car a street away without anyone noticing. When I make it to the drop off point, my heart is racing and I’m dripping sweat despite the cold winter air.

I go to Eden’s Twilight after, and find that guy Roland tending the bar. I can’t tell if he’s scowling at me or if that’s just the way his face always looks. “You again?” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s accusing me of something.

Before I can answer, his brother walks over and hands me the money I earned for stealing the painting. “Neil is welcome here if he can keep making me easy money,” he says.

Roland shakes his head but doesn’t say anything more. He’s clearly still suspicious of me. The analyzing way that Nicky always looks at me, makes me believe that he has to be smart enough to know he doesn’t have the full story on me at the very least. Despite all of that, he seems to think I’m alright for now. I seem to be safe as long as I continue to do the jobs he offers me and give him no reason to stop trusting me.

I take a moment to study my surroundings and spot Andrew talking to a guy nearby. Talking isn’t exactly the right word. It looks more like he’s threatening him. I can’t hear what they’re saying but Andrew abruptly punches the man in the face. The man attempts to fight back but Andrew dodges him effortlessly. I bite my lip, watching, wondering if I should have brought my gun with me tonight. Andrew lands two more solid punches and the guy collapses on the floor, unconscious and bleeding.

“Shit, is he still alive?” Nicky asks.

Andrew is walking in our direction now. He cracks his knuckles as he sits on the stool beside me. “He owes me money. A lot of money. It’s his own fault for gambling away money he doesn’t have. You know I don’t tolerate anyone fucking up.”

“Unless they’re Matt.” Nicky is smirking, completely unaffected by the show of violence.

Andrew isn’t amused. “Shut up,” he tells his cousin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a couple people dragging the unconscious stranger outside.

He finally seems to notice me and asks me “Enjoy the show?” His grin is ferocious rather than friendly. It’s a reminder what I’m dealing with here. Andrew is obviously the type of person who can commit acts of extreme violence without any hesitation. I decide that I need to start bringing my gun with me from now on. 

I shrug. “Yeah, sure. It was some great entertainment.”

I want to question him more about the gambling and everything, but he gets a text message and says “Shit, gotta’ go,” and walks away quickly staring at his cell phone screen.

With a disappointed sigh, I take one last sip of my drink before making my own departure. At this rate I’m not going to have any decent information for Wymack anytime soon. I should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy. If these people weren’t so good at what they’re doing, if they were always leaking information about their criminal activities, then they wouldn’t have evaded the authorities for so long. This job is going to take a lot of time and maximum effort.  
\---

I spend the whole afternoon at the library doing research. I look through news articles and archives until everything seems to be nothing but a big blur. I hit the print button and rub my tired eyes. There wasn’t much about the Minyard family. They really do fly perfectly under the radar. No one can catch them or pin anything on them. The one thing that’s clear here is that nothing about this case is going to be easy. I’m going to have to work my ass off for this.

I grab the article that I printed and fold it up, slipping it into the pocket of my jeans. I only make it a few steps outside before someone says “Neil.” 

A hand lands on my shoulder, startling me, making me flinch. For a second I think ‘This is it, they’re onto me and now I’m about to be killed.’

“You coming from the library? I didn’t know you were such a nerd.”

I’m not going to bother explaining myself to him. I don’t owe him that. Instead I change the subject and turn the focus around on him. “Were you following me? Should I be worried I have a stalker now?”

I should be worried. Because if he was following me and I didn’t notice, that could be a deadly mistake. I’m pissed at myself.

“How do I know you’re not the one stalking me?”

I make a face at him. “In your dreams.”

The piece of paper in my pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. If I’m caught leaving the library with an article about his family, he’d surely kill me.

“I don’t know if I believe you. You’re sneaky as fuck.”

“What?”

“If you weren’t sneaky, you wouldn’t be such a good thief.”

This feels like a trap. There’s no good answer. “I guess so.”

His phone rings and he puts a finger up in front of his face, a signal for me to wait and be quiet. I could use this as an opportunity to get away from him, but I want to hear who he’s talking to on the phone. It’s another chance to overhear some useful information. “What do you want?” he says into the phone. He listens for a moment then mutters “Jesus Christ…”

“Andrew?” I ask.

“For fuck’s sake! Of course they said that.”

He’s clearly angry now. Once again I’m wishing I brought my gun. Silly me for thinking I wouldn’t need it at the library.

“They won’t get away with this, Nicky. I won’t let them.”

So that answers who’s on the phone at least.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he ends the conversation, putting his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket. 

“Is there a problem?” I question. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you, but not without a drink. C’mon, I’m buying.”

The promise of information is irresistible. I nod and follow him to Eden’s Twilight. “Sure.”

We sit beside each other at the bar and Andrew tells his cousin “Keep the drinks coming.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is about now?”

“First drinks,” he says. “If you can keep up with me, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

Is he serious? This could finally be the big break I’ve been hoping for. Could it really be that simple? Have drinks with him and he’ll tell me everything? There’s only one way to find out.

Nicky brings us so many rounds of shots that I lose track. Each time Andrew downs a shot, he watches to make sure that I follow suit. I don’t want to get too drunk when I’m working around dangerous criminals. I’ll put my safety more at risk. These people are not to be underestimated. But I’m also desperate for a chance to get the info I need so that I can solve the case and this seems to be my only chance.

“What was the phone call about?” I try again to question him. My voice sounds slurred even to my own ears. This is not a good sign. I need to slow down. I can’t win this. I won’t be able to keep up with him. He’s clearly a lot more seasoned at drinking than I am. His voice doesn’t even sound slurred at all when he talks.

“This guy I know who sometimes came around here was found dead today,” he informs me.

“Shit… what happened?” 

“They’re saying it’s an overdose.”

“You don’t believe that?”

Andrew shakes his head. He holds a full shot glass in his hand but doesn’t drink it, lost in thought. After a moment he confesses “No, I don’t.”

I have to be careful at this point. I have to keep him talking. If I say the wrong thing, he’ll stop feeding me information. “Why not?” I hold my breath, waiting to see if he continues talking or shuts down.

“They say my brother died of an overdose.”

I saw the article. It’s still folded up in my pocket. There was a small obituary in the newspaper for Aaron Minyard when he died a year ago. It said that he died unexpectedly, leaving behind his parents and brother. They had a private funeral service for him. There was a picture of him. He looked just like Andrew.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. I’m not sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“He used to do drugs, but he’d been clean for a long time,” Andrew tells me. “He was happy.”

“Was it a mistake then? You don’t think he overdosed?”

“Aaron was cremated. And the crematorium was shut down at the same time due to a fire. Ironic, right?”

I can’t deny that’s not ironic. It certainly does seem a little suspicious. “Do you think someone was trying to hide something? Cover something up?”

He doesn’t say anything but he nods in confirmation. He finishes off the shot in his hand.

“Well shit…” I say. “That’s unsettling.”

He’s scowling angrily. I think his default emotion is anger.

If what he’s saying is really true, this job might have just gotten even more dangerous. There could be a killer on the loose framing murders as drug overdoses. Danger has never stopped me before and it won’t stop me now. 

There’s a chance this could all just be some conspiracy in his head. When loved ones die unexpectedly, it’s not uncommon to look for someone to blame. This is definitely something I’m going to have to look into deeper though, because there are too many coincidences to ignore it.

“I should probably go,” I tell him. “You win. I can’t keep up with you. If I drink anymore I’m going to puke.”

Maybe I should be offering him more condolences or sympathy, but the softness was all beaten out of me when I was a kid. Besides, I try not to dwell on other people’s problems. I have enough of my own.

I stand up to leave and the room spins. I lose my footing and fall flat on my back.

“Fuck, Neil, are you alright?” Andrew stands over me and reaches for my hand to help me up.

I grab his hand, more embarrassed than anything. “Yeah, I don’t usually drink this much.”

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards in an amused almost smirk. “I can see that.”

“You hit your head on the floor,” Nicky says, coming toward us with an ice pack in his hands. “Go sit in the back room for a few minutes with this on.”

“I’m fine,” I try to protest. He forcefully shoves the ice pack into my grasp and nudges me towards the back of the bar.

“He better not have a concussion,” I hear him say to Andrew. “He makes me good money.”

“Fuck you,” Andrew responds. He places a hand on my upper back, between my shoulder blades, guiding me to the back room. 

It looks more like a storage closet, shelves full of liquor bottles and dusty glasses a wide array of cleaning products. But there’s an old rusty folding chair in the corner and I sit down on it, holding the ice to my head.

Andrew lights a cigarette and watches me curiously. “You don’t have a concussion, right?”

“No, I’m fine,” I insist, before vomiting all over myself. It hits me so suddenly that I don’t have time to react. I puke down the front of my shirt and onto my own lap. My stomach convulses so violently that vomit even comes out of my nose.

“Oh fuck,” Andrew curses and tosses a mop bucket at me, putting his cigarette out in an ash tray on one of the shelves.

I grip the bucket tightly in my shaky slimy hands and will my stomach to stop heaving. “Sorry.” I don’t know if I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life.

“I’ll get Nicky to clean this up and bring you some clothes you can change into,” he says. “And I’ll have Betsy come check you out. She’ll make sure this isn’t a concussion.”

“I don’t-” I start to protest.

“Shut up,” he says, then leaves me alone to wallow in my own misery.

I try to apologize to Nicky but he shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells me.

“You’ll be alright,” Betsy concludes after examining me. “Your head’s going to hurt for a while though.”

“I’ve had worse,” I shrug it off.

“Thanks,” Andrew tells her as she leaves.

I struggle to get my puke drenched hoodie off, too drunk and clumsy.

“Let me help,” Andrew reaches forward and pulls my hoodie off for me. The clothes he brought, presumably belonging to Nicky, are a plain pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt with a beer logo printed on the front.

I manage to get my own pants off and pull on the sweatpants. He helps me into the clean shirt, but his fingers linger at my wrist.

He’s staring at my scars. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I warn him.

He nods understandingly. “I’ll call you an Uber.”


	4. Chapter Four

I wake up with the migraine from Hell. The previous night’s events come flooding back to me in a rush that makes me wish I could crawl into a hole and die. I reach for my iphone and squint at the screen. There are three missed calls from Wymack and a text message asking ‘Are you dead?’

I call him back before he decides to call the police. “I’m alive,” I tell him.

“Good,” he replies. “Where the hell have you been?”

I’m too embarrassed to go into detail. I try my best to keep the story short and sweet. “I got a migraine, been trying to sleep it off.”

“Are you going to live?” This is his way of being concerned for me.

“I’m fine,” I insist. I wince as my fingers find the lump on the back of my head. “I managed to get Andrew Minyard talking a little last night.” I’ve had enough of talking about myself. I need to redirect his attention. If he knew what really happened he’d be so disappointed. He might not think I’m the best person for this job anymore. And I can’t let that happen. 

“What did he say?”

I tell him about Aaron Minyard and the phone call Andrew received earlier in the day, about Andrew’s theory surrounding the deaths. “Do you think it really could be a murder?” I ask Wymack. He’s always had good instincts about these kinds of things. It made him good at his job as an FBI agent.

“It does seem suspicious,” he agrees. “It’s something to look into for sure. You can’t ignore any leads and we don’t know how this could relate to the drug activity going on in the Minyard family. It could lead to something that helps us take them down.”

I nod even though he can’t see it. “You’re right. I’ll look into it.”

“Be careful, Neil.”

“Always.”

I swallow some aspirin and turn the shower on. Time to do this all over again. But maybe with a little less alcohol involved. I can’t afford to fuck up like that again. Still, I succeeded in getting Andrew talking and I’m proud of that. Hopefully now that we’ve opened up some communication between us it will continue that way. The more he talks, the easier my job gets, and the closer I am to that reward money.

I walk to the gas station down the street, buying a small Styrofoam cup of coffee for 99 cents and a stale chocolate doughnut. I return to my apartment building and eat my breakfast, sitting on a creaky stool in the basement. A skinny black cat jumps up on top of the washing machine and meows at me.

I finish my doughnut and reach to pat the cat’s head. “Hello Mr. Whiskers.”

The cat purrs happily and jumps down to look for mice in the corner. It belongs to the landlord, a plump elderly Hispanic lady who doesn’t speak much English. Sometimes I try to bring the cat a little piece of cheese or leftovers from my dinner when I’m doing my laundry. He always looks so skinny that I can’t help but take pity on him.

When my laundry finishes, I throw it in a pile onto my bed, taking the clothes I borrowed from Nicky with me to Edens Twilight. I find him at the bar and hand them over to him. “Thanks for…” I let the sentence trail off with an awkward shrug.

“No problem,” he tells me. “Just try not to get shit faced again tonight. You kind of made yourself look like an ass clown.”

I’m not exactly sure what an ass clown is but I nod anyway. “Sure thing.”

He hands me a glass of water instead of my usual beverage of choice. I guess he really doesn’t trust me not to embarrass myself again. I sip it without arguing, waiting for Andrew to show his face or for something interesting to happen.

An hour goes by without incident. I go into the bathroom to take a leak. I’m zipping my pants when someone walks in. I keep my eyes down, ignoring him and ready to walk out of the bathroom, but he blocks the door.

“What’s this about?” he asks me, holding a stained piece of paper.

I freeze. It’s the article I printed at the library. How did this stranger get it? Did I drop it? My mind is reeling. It was in my pocket when I puked on myself.

“Nicky said I could do his laundry to repay a debt. He threw your clothes in last night. This fell out of the pocket of your jeans. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t go to Andrew with this right now.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” I say, desperately trying to think of a good way to talk myself out of this situation.

“I’m warning you now,” he says. “If you value your life, you will stop sniffing around where your nose doesn’t belong.”

“I wasn’t snooping.” I have to keep trying to defend myself even if it’s useless. 

“You won’t be after I’m done with you.” He cracks his knuckles. There’s a tattoo on his face, a number 2 on his cheekbone. He’s an intimidating man, one who clearly works with the Minyard family close enough that he’s ready to fight for them at a moment’s notice. I want to know what it is about the Minyard family that earns them such loyalty and about the debt he’s paying Nicky back for by doing his chores, but now is not the time to be asking questions.

I want to run but I choose to stand my ground. I don’t back down. I remember being a child and hiding under my bed, listening for the sound of my father’s footsteps. I remember being four years old and my father yelling at me until I was shaking and peed my pants in fear. I remember my father chasing me with his fist raised telling me ‘You have nowhere to run, boy!’

I refuse to let anyone treat me that way now. I won’t let anyone make me feel like that ever again. 

The guy with the face tattoo swings at me and I have a choice. I feel my temper flare. Sometimes I think I’m always angry and just waiting for a tiny spark to set my rage ablaze. I inherited this quality from my father. As much as I would like to deny it, my rage is a part of me. But I can control it. I don’t have to be like my father. I choose to control it now. I choose not to hurt this guy. He gets a couple good hits in before I manage to get my gun out.

“Back the fuck off,” I tell him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

I’m glad I finally remembered to bring my gun. I’m not planning on using it, but he doesn’t know that.

The man pauses, seeming to debate his next move, then shakes his head and leaves.

I sigh with relief and put my gun away. I pick up the article and flush it down the toilet, wanting to make sure no one can find it again. I already know what it says in it anyway. I keep my head down and head outside. I can come back later, but right now I think the smartest thing to do is lay low. 

I step outside and nearly collide with Andrew. “Shit, what happened to you?” He grabs me by my jacket to get a closer look at me, effectively stopping me from getting away as well.

“Nothing,” I say. I can’t tell him I got caught snooping into his personal life. 

“Don’t lie to me, Neil. You’re bleeding.”

“It’s really nothing,” I assure him. I poke my tongue out to examine my split lip then spit blood onto the sidewalk.

“You’re coming with me,” he decides, dragging me along.

“Where are we going?”

“My house. Let me patch you up.”

I stop protesting. He’s taking me to his house. If I’m going to find evidence to send him to jail and bring down his whole criminal organization, his house seems like the perfect place for it.

“Whatever,” I say, pretending I’m not excited for a chance to search his house for incriminating evidence. “Just hurry up. It’s fucking freezing.”

He leads me to the back towards a black range rover. He opens the passenger door for me. “Get in.”

I think to myself that this could be a very bad idea, but I get into the vehicle anyway. Could he have a more stereotypical car for a criminal? I bite my lip as I fasten my seat belt, holding back a groan of pain. It’s possible that the face tattoo guy could have already alerted Andrew about what happened and he could be driving me somewhere to kill me and dump my body where no one will find it. It seems too late to turn back now. And if I don’t take any risks, there are no rewards. I can’t turn down a chance to get inside his house.

“Who did that to you?” he asks me. Is it a test? Does he already know everything?

“A guy with a number 2 tattooed on his face,” I answer. “I think he was drunk. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mother fucker,” Andrew curses, gripping the steering wheel tightly in his hands. “Kevin’s going to pay for this.”

“I’m getting blood on your car,” I say, aware of the blood dripping down the side of my face and the smears of red my hands are leaving behind on every surface I touch.

“It can be cleaned.”

When we finally pull up to his house, he hits a button and iron gates swing open leading towards a huge expensive looking house. What the fuck? How does he afford a place like this? 

I try to act casual but I can’t stop staring. He parks the car in the garage and says “Follow me.”

He punches a number into a keypad and then lets me into the house. We walk down the hallway straight to the living room. There’s a big fireplace carved out of marble, but no fire going currently. He gestures at the big gray couch.

“Sit,” he instructs. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappears, leaving me alone. I’m tempted to start searching the nearby rooms, as the living room doesn’t seem to offer much in the way of any evidence. There aren’t even any family photos on the walls. But the couch is so soft and as I sink into it, it cradles my aching body comfortingly. The tour will wait. I’d probably leave a trail of blood which would make it obvious that I was sneaking around where I shouldn’t be.

Andrew returns with a first aid kit in his hands. He sets it down on the arm of the couch then gestures at my black hooded sweatshirt. “Off,” he commands. “I need to look at your wounds.”

I quickly weigh my options. I doubt that I could argue with him and get out of this so I relent, wincing as I struggle with my jacket and sweater. He helps tug my sweater off over my head, along with my tee shirt. The black was sort of hiding the blood at least but now there’s nowhere to hide.

I appreciate that his gaze doesn’t linger on my various scars. He evaluates my wounds carefully. I bite my lip as his fingertips brush against a sensitive bruise over my kidney.  
“Any blood in your piss?” he asks me.

“No.”

“Good.”

One thing I know about myself is that I can take a punch. I’m pretty sure nothing is broken. I’ve had broken bones before and this doesn’t feel the same.

“This cut here needs a couple stitches,” Andrew informs me, pointing at the gash above my eyebrow that’s been dripping blood everywhere.

I shake my head. “No, no hospitals.”

“I can do it myself,” he offers, much to my surprise. “I’ve done it a lot of times.”

I suppose that makes sense, considering that he’s most likely the leader of a major criminal organization. With the violence I’ve already seen, I imagine his people getting hurt happens on a fairly consistent basis. And he can’t have them going to the hospital all the time or people would start asking too many questions.

“I have a steady hand with a needle and a gun.”

That’s almost a confession, but not nearly enough to incriminate him.

“Okay,” I say. “Make it quick.” This is going to hurt…

He reaches into the first aid kit and pulls out the necessary supplies. I dig my fingers into the soft material of the couch, gritting my teeth, as the needle pierces my skin. It’s over quickly, and as promised Andrew keeps a steady hand the whole time. It’s better than I could have done.

“I like you,” he tells me, startling me with such an abrupt statement.

I’m suddenly very uncomfortable. I shrug awkwardly. “Thanks I guess. And thanks for… not asking about my scars.”

“I don’t judge.”

I yawn, exhaustion finally catching up with me.

“Sleep here,” Andrew suggests. “You’ll be safe here.”

Safe in a house of criminals? I doubt it. But I can’t seem to keep my eyes open. So I just nod and sink into the couch, already falling asleep. I’m slightly aware of him covering me with a quilt as I drift off. It’s not the behavior I would have expected from a major criminal, though I’m too tired to question it.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been commenting. I really appreciate it and it inspires me to continue writing this story for you all.

“Neil.” A voice startles me and I move before I’m completely awake, ready for a fight. I lash out, trying to hit whoever is leaning over me, but Andrew blocks me easily. “It’s just me,” he says. “Settle down.”

I sit up, regaining my bearings. My wounds still hurt but there’s no more blood dripping anymore so Andrew’s stitches seem to have worked. I look around quickly, making sure that we’re the only ones in the room and there aren’t any other obvious threats. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugs it off. “I need to go check on some things at my auto repair business. You want to go with me?”

Why is he asking me to go with him? We barely know each other. I remember what he said earlier ‘I like you.’ 

I nod. “Okay, sure.”

I may have missed my chance to look around the house today but a new chance to snoop at his place of business is almost as good.

We walk to the garage where his Range Rover is still parked. I climb into the passenger seat, noticing that the blood has been cleaned off of it. Did Andrew do it himself or did someone else take care of it for him?

I glance at the clock, seeing that it’s nearly dinner time which means I slept the whole afternoon away on a criminal’s couch. Not my best moment.

“Is that yours?” I point at the motorcycle parked nearby in the big garage. I didn’t notice it before, too preoccupied with my wounds.

He smiles, clearly proud of the sleek and expensive looking black and white colored Ducati. I imagine how fast a bike like that would go and how good it would look in motion. “Yeah, that’s mine. You like motorcycles?”

I nod. “Yeah, but I don’t have one or anything.”

“Next time I’ll let you get a closer look at it, maybe even take it out for a test drive when you’re not already beat to shit.”

Next time? My heart beats faster, excited by the prospect that I’d be allowed back into his house. That means my chance to explore his house hasn’t been lost forever.

It’s a short drive to Minyard Auto Repair. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but it doesn’t appear to be any different than any other auto repair business. As we step inside, the smell of gasoline is hauntingly familiar. 

There’s a car being worked on by a couple guys wearing coveralls. Andrew waves a hello to them and heads for the office in the back. Everything is surprisingly neat and organized. There are no papers out in the open for me to spy on. Andrew opens the laptop on the desk and checks his email. It’s not on screen for very long, but from what I can see it seems to be a legitimate email account for his auto repair business, nothing sketchy. The criminal activity must be in a separate account. He picks up a phone and hits a button, listening to a message that I can’t hear.

“Follow me,” he says, putting the phone down. There are countless shelves full of tools. I can’t help but notice in the back corner near a pile of spare tires, where the concrete floor seems to be slightly discolored, as if someone’s been scrubbing it with bleach a lot. Considering that other parts of the floor are stained with gasoline and oil, I doubt that anyone was trying to clean that from this particular corner. It sends a chill through me, imaging that they might be cleaning up blood here and hiding evidence of terrible crimes. I want to take a picture of it for Wymack but know that I can’t do that without risking getting caught. I do step a little closer, enough to catch a slight whiff of chlorine.

Is he going to do something to me here? Was that phone call someone ratting me out? I act like I’m itching a scratch, but I’m actually checking to make sure my gun is still safely tucked into the holster on my waist beneath my hoodie. When Andrew examined my wounds, he never said anything about my gun. I assumed that he was just used to people carrying guns on them. But maybe his silence about it was actually a bad sign.

Andrew picks up a wrench and I flinch involuntarily. I debate whether or not I even stand a chance. I’m outnumbered. I doubt it. I won’t get out of this alive.

“Do you know how to change a tire?” Andrew asks me.

“What?” I must have misheard him…

“Do you know how to change a tire?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I answer. “Good, help me with this one.”

He kneels down by the red Mustang’s tire and hands me the wrench. I kneel beside him, glancing at him to make sure it’s not some kind of trick, then I get to work.

“Did your old man teach you?” Andrew questions me.

“I guess you could say that,” I answer. 

When I didn’t do what he said or preform up to his standards, I got a beating for it. Sometimes with his fists, or his belt, or whatever object was closest. A few times he burned me with a cigarette. 

“You didn’t get along with him.” 

It’s not a question. Is it really that obvious? Andrew must be pretty observant to notice the change in my expression and the way I tense at the mention of my father.

“No, we didn’t,” I admit.

“Your scars,” he says. “They are from him.”

Again it’s not a question. I just nod in confirmation. I don’t know what Andrew would have said next, if he would have offered me sympathy or asked me more questions, because we’re interrupted before he can respond to me.

“What is he doing here? Who invited him?”

I stand up from my kneeling position and face the intruder. I recognize him from the club.

“I invited him,” Andrew says, standing up next to me. 

“I’m Matt,” he says to me, reaching out to shake my hand. “Nicky already mentioned you to me. He said you do good work.”

I shake Matt’s hand but shrug off the compliment.

Andrew’s cell phone rings and I watch him answer it. He speaks in German quickly then ends the call. “I need to go help Nicky with something at Eden’s Twilight,” he explains to me. “Come with me.”

I could protest his demand to go along with him but I’m curious to see what’s going on at the club so I keep quiet and follow him to his car.

“Does Matt help you fix cars?” I ask him, trying to get a better picture of the way the Minyard family operates their businesses.

“Sometimes,” Andrew answers.

Do they launder drug money through the club and the auto repair shop? Where else is he throwing the drug money around?

When we arrive at the bar, Nicky waves to us but doesn’t ask how I’m doing. He doesn’t care as long as I can keep working for him. I dread the next job he might offer me.

There in the corner by the pool table, is a familiar face. It’s the guy with the number two tattooed on his face. Andrew grabs him by the shirt collar and drags him away from the other men so he can speak to him more privately. I stand back, but close enough to hear their conversation.

“What’s your problem, Andrew?” the man questions.

“You are, Kevin,” Andrew informs him. “You put your hands on something that belongs to me.”

Kevin seems confused at first, then he seems to notice my presence. He raises an eyebrow at Andrew. “He’s with you?” he asks skeptically.

“He is,” Andrew confirms.

“Why? He’s nothing, nobody, and I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Andrew suddenly punches Kevin in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. “Never say that again,” Andrew threatens him. 

I’m expecting Kevin to bring up the article he found in my pocket, but he never does. Maybe because Andrew keeps hitting him and he can’t get a word in edge wise as he attempts and fails to block Andrew’s punches. Settling scores with fists seems to be Andrew’s preferred method of handling problems.

“Touch him again and I’ll cut your fucking hands off,” Andrew warns.

Everyone’s staring. I’m hit with a realization. This means something, Andrew Minyard beating the shit of someone just because they’d fought with me. 

Andrew puts his hand on my shoulder, steering me towards the bar. We sit down next to each other and Nicky places drinks in front of both of us.

“On the house,” he says.

When I glance around to see what everyone’s doing, they’ve all settled down. Kevin limps out of the bar on his own. One guy gives me a nod of approval before going to back to his pool game.

I didn’t really know I had a true place here until now. This is a mixed blessing. Everything comes with a price tag. I’ll no longer be able to hide on the fringes. 

After finishing my drink, I decide to head home. Andrew doesn’t try to stop me, knowing I’m wounded and exhausted.

I kick off my shoes and shed my blood stained clothes. I take some more aspirin for the pain and stretch out on my bed. I hit Wymack’s number in the contacts list on my iphone. It’s late but I’ve managed to catch him still awake.

“I got into a little fight,” I admit. “But it’s all straightened out. And Andrew actually patched me up.”

“I thought he didn’t like you.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Alright…” Wymack sounds suspicious.

“I got a look at their auto repair business and talked to him some more.”

“Did you find out anything useful?”

“Not exactly. But he really trusts me now I think.”

“Do I have to remind you that he is not the type of friend you want to have? You’re wasting your time, Neil.”

“Don’t rush me!” I snap, suddenly feeling defensive. I act on impulse and end the call. Wymack calls back immediately and I take a deep breath before answering.

“Did you just hang up on me?” he demands.

“No, why would I do that?” I say. “Must be the shitty reception in my apartment.”

The truth is, I need this job. When I’m working, it’s the only time in my life that I’ve felt like I’m in control. When I do this kind of work, I have the power to make a change in the world. 

“Alright,” he says. “Don’t get killed.”

“Thanks, I’ll try not to.”

The call ends and immediately a text message comes in on my burner phone. I pick it up and glance at the screen. It’s from Nicky. ‘I might have a new job for you. Meet me tomorrow.’


	6. Chapter Six

It’s a damp night but the crowd gathered on the side of the street doesn’t seem bothered by the weather. Nicky Hemmick lets out a low whistle and grins at me. “Where’d you get this beauty?” he asks me.

I’m uncomfortably aware of everyone’s eyes glued to me. I have to admit, the car is pretty attention grabbing. It’s seriously impressive, electric blue and super sleek. The Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat is a car that’s built for speed.

“How do you think?” I challenge him. There’s no way I’d ever afford a car like this myself. It actually belongs to Wymack. He had some sort of midlife crisis and bought this car. He’s never let me touch it until now.

“You’re telling me you stole it?” 

“You could say that.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re a good little thief, aren’t you?”

“Sure.”

“But the question tonight is, are you a good racer?”

When I told Wymack that my next job for the Minyard family was going to require me to race a car, he was understandably surprised. He was quick to offer me the car though. It was the easiest and most logical option. Street racing is already illegal, I didn’t need to add more grand theft auto to my potential list of crimes. If I get caught by the police racing tonight, Wymack probably won’t be able to bail me out or explain this situation away. It’s a big risk. My job and reputation are on the line. I’d face huge fines and even jail time for reckless driving. But the potential rewards outweigh the risks.

“I haven’t raced in a while,” I admit. 

“There are a lot of bets against you.”

I glance over and see Nicky collecting money and bets from the crowd. 

“Do you think you can do it?” Andrew asks me.

I shrug. “Let’s find out.”

When I said I haven’t done this in a while, that was the truth. I did this a lot as a teenager but it’s been years.

Wymack allowed me to take the car for a test drive last night and I spent hours driving it to get a real feel for how the car handles. Do I think I can do this? I honestly have no idea. 

I’m used to racing against an actual driver, but tonight I’m racing the clock. Not long ago a racer, who chose to remain anonymous due to this being illegal, posted their video online claiming the current record for the fastest lap around the inner city of Columbia. Everyone’s betting on whether or not I can beat that record myself tonight.

If I manage to pull this off, I feel like it could really solidify my place with Andrew and his family. It would boost my reputation and they certainly wouldn’t be unhappy with the money I win them. Of course some of the money would go to me and I shouldn’t keep it, but it’s tempting. Most of all, I can’t deny how much I love the thrill of doing this knowing it’s forbidden.

I take off quickly, having the course memorized. I gave this a practice run but this feels so different. Everyone is watching and waiting.

Even after midnight there is still quite a bit of traffic to navigate which makes it all more difficult. The city lights are a blur as I speed through the streets. I have to be very aware of my surroundings and anticipate traffic patterns. I pull maneuvers that I know to be dangerous, cutting other drivers off and weaving across lanes while going above the speed limit. I even run a couple of red lights. I feel so alive.

I never once feel out of control with the car. I’m confident in my racing abilities. It’s like second nature to me, as if I never stopped racing. The trip ends right where it started. As soon as I step out of the car, I know that I accomplished the challenge. There are shocked and excited faces to greet me. 

“You beat the record by a whole minute!” Nicky shouts enthusiastically.

“I didn’t see that coming,” I hear a guy nearby say, shaking his head and handing over money to Nicky.

“I did,” Andrew says, stepping closer to pat me on the back. “I knew you could do it.”

Did he really or is he just putting on a show? It’s hard to tell.

“Come with us back to Eden’s Twilight,” Nicky tells me. “This calls for a celebration.”

There’s no way I can turn down a celebration for myself, so I follow them to the club. I feel like I’m in shock and the next couple of hours seem to pass in a blur. Andrew buys me a drink and everyone is in good spirits celebrating my win. 

“Have you met Seth Gordon?” Andrew says to me at one point, gesturing at a scowling man by the bar. He’s been watching me like a hawk the whole night.

“No, I haven’t,” I answered.

“Seth’s my friend from college.”

The party moves from the bar to Andrew’s house and I go along hoping to find an opportunity to sneak away from the crowd and search for incriminating evidence. “I have to take a leak,” I tell Andrew. He nods and points me in the direction of the bathroom, tipsy with alcohol and focused on a story some girl is telling him about her recent vacation to Hawaii. If I’m going to take a chance to explore, this is the best time for it.

I step into the upstairs bathroom, taking in the expensive looking marble flooring and the fancy vintage clawfoot tub. I take a quick peek in the drawers and cabinets beneath the double sinks but find nothing except toothbrushes, towels, and shower products. I find most of the doors upstairs frustratingly locked so I go back downstairs to continue my search.

The huge kitchen is full of people, gathered around the island in the center, drinking and laughing. More people are in the dining room and lounging on the couch near the fireplace where Andrew patched my wounds not so long ago. I take a quick look in a recreational room off the bottom of the stairs. There’s a big leather couch and a giant plasma screen television. Shelves are full of DVDs and video games, nothing significant.

I’m impressed by the room that seems to serve as a type of movie theater, containing a huge screen on the wall and movie theater style seating. Nothing to see there either though so I move on. 

The basement level of the house is home to an expansive wine cellar and a bar/lounge area. There’s a table set up for playing poker. I start to make my way towards the bar area when a voice startles me.

“Are you lost?” Seth asks me, standing by the stairs. His arms are crossed over his chest.

Shit… My heart is racing with panic but I know I have to act casual if I want to get myself out of this situation. “I was just curious and admiring all of the fancy stuff here,” I tell him, shrugging. “I don’t have anything like this at my apartment. I mean, Andrew literally has his own movie theater. That’s so cool, don’t you think?”

Seth rolls his eyes. “You should get back to the party. They are celebrating you, after all.”

I walk with him back to where Andrew is. The girl he was talking to earlier is nowhere in sight. 

“Seth!” Andrew greets Seth cheerfully. “Why don’t you have a drink in your hand?”

Seth ignores the question. “Do you think it’s a good idea to let Neil wander around in here unsupervised?”

He talks about me as if I’m not standing right next to them. It makes me uncomfortable.

“Don’t be like that,” Andrew scolds him. “Neil just won us a lot of money. Don’t be so rude to him.”

“Why do you let him stay here?”

I’m confused by the question. Does he mean why did Andrew let me sleep here the day he patched my wounds? Or does he mean why does Andrew let me hang out with them and do jobs for them?

When Andrew doesn’t answer, Seth continues on. “Why are you protecting him? What makes him so special?”

This is getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Should I interrupt their conversation and try to change the subject? I don’t like all of this focus being on me. Seth’s suspicion about me could get me into major trouble.

“Did you hear me?” he demands.

Andrew nods slowly and takes a drink from his glass of what appears to be Vodka. “I’m trying to ignore you.”

Seth starts to say something, but Andrew shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively.

“You’re just paranoid,” Andrew tells his friend.

Seth finally acknowledges my presence again but only to look at me as if I’m a bug that needs to be squashed. “He must really like you,” he says.

I am beyond uncomfortable now and unsure what to say so I just shrug.

Seth leans in to say something quietly in my ear. It sounds a lot like a threat. “The last person who got caught snooping around here had a terrible accident, fell off the roof of a very tall building. You’d better be careful nothing like that happens to you. It would sure be a shame.”

He disappears back into the crowd but my nerves are fried. I’m too shaken up to want to linger at the party any longer. “I’m exhausted,” I tell Andrew. “I’m going to head home.”

“Okay,” he says. “Don’t let Seth scare you. His bark’s worse than his bite.”

“Alright.”

“You did good tonight.”

“Thanks, it was fun.”

I leave the party, returning Wymack’s car to his garage and taking my own back to my apartment. I kick off my shoes and collapse on my bed, reaching for my iphone. I search the internet for proof of Seth’s story. I’m hoping it’s not true but my stomach sinks when I see the evidence. There’s a short article from six months ago mentioning an accident where an undercover police officer fell off a building. It says that Seth Gordon was the last person he was seen with and that he was questioned about it but that the officer’s death was ultimately ruled an accident.

I imagine Seth pushing a police officer off of a roof and all of the crimes him and his friends are getting away with every day. They need to be stopped. Can I be the one to stop them? I remember Seth catching me snooping and threatening me. It makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t believe Andrew for one second when he said that Seth wasn’t scary and that his bark was worse than his bite. Clearly Seth has a deadly bite and I am dangerously close to meeting the same fate as that police officer.

Andrew defended me and claimed me as one of his people, but the truth is that I am not one of them. I can’t let myself forget that or it could be a deadly mistake.


	7. Chapter Seven

I decide to meet with Wymack for lunch, to review in person all the details I’ve discovered so far and get some insight from him. I need it after being threatened by Seth Gordon. 

We meet at Wymack’s favorite pizza shop, getting a table in the back for privacy even though there’s not many other people here. The owner, an older chubby Italian guy, gives a friendly wave to us as we walk in the door. “The usual?” he asks us.

“Yeah, that would be great, Lorenzo,” Wymack replies, nodding quickly.

We sit at our table, positioning our chairs instinctively so that we can keep an eye on the doorway and front windows for any signs of trouble. Lorenzo places two plastic cups filled with Pepsi in front of us then heads back into the kitchen. The smell of warm dough has my stomach grumbling. I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, but there was too much weighing on my mind.

“So where are they today?” Wymack asks me. “Eden’s Twilight?”

“Yes, last time I checked.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

He sounds concerned so I try to reassure him. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure seems that way.”

I remind myself that I can let my guard down a little around Wymack. I’ve never had to be afraid of him. He’s never gotten violent with me even when he’s annoyed. So I tell him everything, about Seth’s threat and about how he might have been responsible for murdering a police officer.

“Shit,” Wymack finally says, after I finish talking. “I can’t stand these guys. Bragging about murder like that is a bold move. I don’t think they have any souls.”

Lorenzo places the pizza down in front of us and two paper plates. “Enjoy!”

I put a slice onto my plate and watch the grease soaking into the paper.

“You have to eat, kid,” Wymack reminds me.

I take a bite, chewing slowly, thinking about falling from a rooftop. I desperately need to change the subject. “I thought you told Abby you were going to start eating healthier.”

Wymack has already finished his first slice of extra cheese pizza and is reaching for a second. “I tell her that to make her happy. I’m as healthy as a horse. No need to worry.”

“That’s a weird phrase… healthy as a horse,” I muse. “Who came up with it?”

“No changing the subject,” he scolds me. Caught red handed… “Maybe we should pull you out of this UCO. I thought we could take down some bad guys, get some money and reputation for our business while we’re at it, but it’s too dangerous. It’s not worth you being murdered.”

That effectively snaps me out of my sour mood, done feeling sorry for myself. “No, you can’t pull me out now. I’m getting closer, I know it. Andrew is really starting to trust me.”

“Seth’s suspicious of you and he’s proven he won’t hesitate to kill,” he argues.

I shake my head. “I can do this, Wymack. You can’t stop me.”

I’m getting so close to cracking this case, there’s no way I can stop now. All of my hard work would be for nothing. And more importantly, I can’t rest easy knowing that these criminals are getting away with hurting people.

I know I have to be careful around Seth. His threat did shake me up a little. But I won’t let him get the best of me. I do think Andrew is beginning to trust me and that means something. I don’t think I’m going to be murdered yet. I still have a chance to succeed in my mission.

Wymack sighs. “I won’t force you,” he says, sounding like he regrets it. “You’d better get back to work then. The sooner you solve this case, the sooner you’re out of danger.”

I take a few more bites of my pizza then stand up to leave, waving goodbye to Lorenzo.

“Good luck,” Wymack tells me.

“Thanks,” I say, half-sarcastic.

I go to Eden’s Twilight. When I arrive, Andrew is busy talking to a girl I don’t recognize. I take a seat and watch them curiously.

Andrew smiles and leans in close to whisper in her ear. She laughs in response. It’s all very intimate. I suddenly feel awkward watching it.

“Good to see you, Neil,” Nicky greets me.

I can’t manage to look away from Andrew and the girl. She looks to be around our age. Does Andrew have a girlfriend?

“Have you met Renee?” Nicky asks me, gesturing towards the mystery woman.

“No.”

“I’ll introduce you,” he offers, leading the way towards Andrew and Renee. “Renee Walker,” he interrupts them without care. “I’d like you to meet our new friend Neil.”

She gives me a sly smile. She’s pretty but she also looks like she could kick some serious ass. Of course Andrew would be attracted to a girl like her. “A pleasure to meet you, Neil,” she says.

“Renee is a good friend of mine,” Andrew says. 

Is good friend code for lovers or for co-workers?

“I better go,” Renee says. “I have business to do.”

Andrew nods, kissing Renee on the cheek quickly. She heads out the door. Before I can ask any questions, Matt runs over to us looking panicked. “Andrew! Katelyn’s house is on fire!”

Andrew immediately runs outside with Nicky and Matt right behind him. Who is Katelyn? Why is her house on fire?

We run down the street, around the corner, and are greeted by a bunch of firetrucks and police officers.

“Stay back!” One cop is shouting at the small crowd beginning to form. Apparently I’m not the only one curious about what’s going on.

There’s a small blue house engulfed in flames, black smoke filling the air. It’s like a sight out of a movie. All I can do is stare with wide eyes.

“Where’s Katelyn?” Andrew is shouting frantically.

A girl with short hair hurries over to us and Matt immediately pulls her into his arms. “Dan, what’s happening?”

I remember that Dan is the name of Matt’s fiancé.

“They said Katelyn is dead,” she sobs. “I heard them say it was an overdose.”

“Fuck!” Andrew yells so loudly that several people in the crowd turn to look at him, including a police officer. “That’s bullshit!”

Nicky glances at the police officer staring in our direction, then puts his arm around Andrew’s shoulders. “Come on, there’s nothing we can do here. Let’s go.”

“Fuck you all you stupid motherfuckers!” Andrew yells at the cops, prompting one of them to start walking towards us.

“Let’s go,” Nicky insists, nearly dragging Andrew away now.

We make our way back to where Andrew’s car is parked. Nicky gets behind the wheel to drive and Andrew is so shaken up that he doesn’t argue, just gets into the passenger seat and puts his head in his hands.

No one invites me to join but no one stops me from getting into the car either. I sit beside Matt, his fiance on the other side of him. She’s still crying softly and he’s doing his best to comfort her. I feel like an intruder.

We arrive at Andrew’s house, gathering in the living room. Matt and his wife sit on the couch. Nicky retrieves tissues for Dan then paces back and forth across the floor, appearing lost in thought.

I’m debating sitting down when Andrew startles me, suddenly punching the wall. 

Nicky curses in German. Then he goes to his cousin and inspects his hand.

“Fuck off,” Andrew says to him.

“Are you trying to break your hand?”

“This is bullshit, Nicky,” he says. “You know it is.”

“Hurting yourself won’t make it better.”

“I need a drink,” he announces, storming off downstairs.

I hurry to catch up with him, finding him at the bar area on the lower level of the house, drinking vodka straight from the bottle. His knuckles are bleeding but he pays no attention to it.

“Who’s Katelyn?” I ask him, hoping he doesn’t lash out at me next.

“She was my brother Aaron’s girlfriend.”

She was Aaron Minyard’s girlfriend? I didn’t know that he had a girlfriend when he died.

“She had a drug habit,” he informs me. “She was in and out of rehab for it a few times. She’d been doing better lately. She had a hard time when my brother died but she was doing good now, even talking about going back to college for a degree in science.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that they both died of overdoses and that fires mysteriously started?”

It really seems impossible that it could be a coincidence at this point. Something shady is definitely going on here. “Yeah, I do,” I admit. Someone could be murdering people and covering the evidence by arson. I feel sick just thinking about it. “Do you know who could have had motivation to do something like that?”

He shakes his head. “A lot of people could have.” 

“What do you mean?” I want to get the most information from him that I can. What would cause someone to want to kill these people? Was it over money or something else?

“I know all kinds of people, some of them aren’t above breaking laws. But I still have some morals, Neil. I don’t go around murdering people for fun and I don’t know anyone who does.”

“I know that.”

“I’ve already been trying to look into this.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You have?”

“Yeah, ever since my brother died.”

“Even with all of your connections, you still don’t have any leads on who could be responsible?”

“No, not yet. But I won’t give up. Whoever is doing this is going to pay for it.”

I wonder what he means by ‘pay.’ He said he had morals, which I believe he does have his own set of morals. Those morals may not be the morals everyone else has though. I don’t doubt that he doesn’t go around murdering people for fun, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kill someone if he felt it was justified in some way. If he found the person who killed his brother, it doesn’t seem farfetched that he might kill him or have him be killed. I won’t let that happen. If there is a killer on the loose, I need to find him and make sure he goes to jail for his crimes.

“I want to help,” I tell Andrew. “Any way that I can.”

“Thanks,” he says appreciatively. “You’re a good guy, Neil.”

I try not to cringe.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” he suggests, bringing the bottle of vodka with him. “I bet everyone could use a drink.”

More people show up as the night goes on, including Seth and Renee. I have a couple drinks, listening to everyone talk and hoping for clues. At some point I drift off to sleep on Andrew’s couch.


	8. Chapter Eight

“Hand me that wrench,” Andrew says.

I pause, holding the metal in my hand and remembering.

Andrew looks up from the car he’s working on, analyzing me for a moment. He reaches over slowly, as if I’m a skittish wild animal, and plucks the wrench from my hand. “It’s okay,” he tells me.

I hate how he seems to read my mind so easily. He always manages to see the worst parts of me and my life that I try so hard to hide and forget about. I don’t know how he does it, how he reads people so well. But I imagine that it’s part of why he’s so good at leading a criminal organization and not getting caught. It’s only a matter of time before him and his people catch onto my true identity. I can only hope that I’ve gathered enough evidence to land them in jail before that happens.

Andrew goes back to work, turning his back to me. “You mentioned your old man, but what about your mom?” he asks me.

“She died,” I tell him, seeing no reason to hide the truth from him. 

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he says.

“Yeah, it does.”

He finishes what he’s doing and goes to wash the oil and grime off of his hands. One thing that’s nice about talking to Andrew is that he doesn’t pity me even knowing my story. 

I imagine what his upbringing was like and what lead him down a criminal path in life. I have so many questions for him that I can’t ask without causing suspicion. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the answers or not.

“There’s going to be a small gathering at my house tonight,” he tells me, walking back over to me and drying his hands on his jeans. “To celebrate Katelyn’s life.”

“No funeral?”

He shakes his head. “Her family was never involved in her life but they pop up out of nowhere suddenly and decide to claim her body. They’re taking it back home, out of state, to have a private funeral for her. It’s bullshit.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I say, because I can’t think of any better response.

“Come with me,” he suggests. “I know you didn’t know Katelyn, but you’re one of us now, right? Besides, maybe we can try to ask around and figure out who’s responsible for this.”

It’s true that I might hear some clues or stumble on some evidence at the gathering. I genuinely do want to find who’s responsible for these murders and get them put in jail where they belong, stop them before they kill anyone else.

Andrew drives me to his house where his cousin Nicky, Matt, and Dan have already set things up for the gathering- a lot of alcohol, food, and pictures of Katelyn. Andrew excuses himself to take a shower.   
Nicky looks me over then frowns. “You need something more respectable to wear than a hoodie.”

I shrug apologetically. “I didn’t know about this gathering until last minute. Andrew invited me just now.” 

I don’t think I own anything very nice to wear.

Nicky puts his hand on my shoulder and steers me towards one of the bedrooms upstairs. I’m startled to realize that it’s actually Andrew’s bedroom. There’s a door leading to what seems to be a private bathroom, the sound of a shower running behind it. There’s a king sized bed and everything is done in a white and black color scheme. 

“I bet Andrew has something you can borrow,” Nicky says, quickly opening a huge walk-in closet and searching through clothing. 

It allows me a moment to snap a few pictures on my cell phone of the room.

“Here!” Nicky hands me a black button down shirt. “It’ll be good enough for tonight.”

“Thanks,” I say.

He waits while I change as fast as possible, keeping my back to him, not wanting to give him time to stare at any of my scars. He leads me back down the stairs and I can see that more people have showed up. By the time Andrew emerges from the shower in black pants and a tight fitting black long sleeved shirt, there’s at least twenty people gathered in his house.

I try my best to listen in on conversations when I can. Some people’s slurred drunken German is completely indecipherable. Other people are talking so fast that it’s hard to catch anything. I do manage to hear a girl discussing Katelyn’s overdose with Dan. 

“They said they found evidence of drug use at the scene,” she is saying. “But where did she get the drugs? None of us sold them to her.”

I glance over and see Dan simply shaking her head.

“I’ll ask around and see if I can find out,” the girl offers, giving Dan a quick hug before going in search of food.

‘None of us sold them to her,’ she had said. So did people here at this gathering sell her drugs in the past?

I head to the kitchen for some water. I freeze when I see two familiar people already occupying the kitchen. Renee is standing with one hand on Andrew’s arm and whispering into his ear.

My first instinct is to turn back but it’s too late. Andrew is waving me over to them. I remind myself that it is my job to get close to Andrew in order to gather evidence against him and if I run away now it will probably look bad.

“I was just saying I hadn’t talked to Katelyn in a while,” Andrew tells me. “I feel kind of shitty about it.”

“It’s alright, Andrew,” Renee comforts him, patting him on the back.

I remember Wymack saying that they all had no souls. Watching them all crying and grieving a friend seems to ruin that theory.

“Did you know Katelyn well?” I ask Renee, trying to get some useful information from her.

“She worked at the casino for a little while,” she says.

“You work at the casino?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Not exactly.”

“Renee’s a professional gambler,” Andrew clarifies.

I raise an eyebrow. Professional?

“It’s not easy to impress you, is it?” Renee asks me, looking amused.

I’m not sure how to answer that so I shrug instead.

“You should come by the casino and check it out sometime,” she says. “I bet you’d like it.”

I don’t know what that means. I try to change the subject, steering it back to something more worth my time. “Do we know who was the last person to talk to Katelyn? Who last saw her?”

Andrew shakes his head. “I’ll try to find out.”

I linger at the gathering for a little while longer but guests start to leave and I realize I’m not going to get any more information. I change back into my hoodie and head home. 

I get into my apartment and kick off my shoes, not even making it to my bedroom before a text message comes in on my burner phone. ‘You’re invited.’ 

I don’t recognize the number. I sit down on my bed and text back ‘Who is this?’

‘Andrew. I changed my number.’

I never had his phone number in the first place, but I can’t help wondering why he needs to change his number. Probably for conducting criminal activity and keeping police off of his trail if I had to guess.

‘What am I invited to?’ I question.

‘Casino party tomorrow night. Meet me at my place. 10 PM.’

My iphone suddenly starts ringing, startling me. I hurry to answer it. “Are they still suspicious?” Wymack asks me.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Not any more suspicious than they already were. No new threats.”

“Did you find out anything else about the murders?

“Not yet.”

“Do you think Andrew knows more than he’s saying? Could he have something to do with it?”

“No, no way.”

“How can you be so sure?”

I think of how devastated Andrew was the night of the fire and how determined he is to find his brother’s killer. “I just am.”

“What else did you find out?”

“They invited me to a party or something at the casino tomorrow night.”

“Don’t forget how dangerous these guys are,” Wymack sounds very serious. “They’re big league criminals. They’re not your friends. If they ever figure out who you really are, they won’t hesitate to kill you. You’re playing with fire here, Neil.”

Is he trying to talk me out of this? I thought I already made it clear that I’m not ready to quit this mission.

“I know,” I insist. “I won’t forget.”

“If you go to the casino, don’t try to show off. Only do what’s necessary.”

“Have you ever known me to be a show off?”

“No,” Wymack admits. “I just want you to be safe.”

“You’re the one who put me on this case, Wymack,” I remind him.

For a moment he’s silent. “Go to sleep,” he says finally. “I’ll check in with you again soon.”


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has been commenting. I appreciate the feedback and knowing people are still interested so I can keep updating for you all.

“Is there a dress code?”

Nicky looks at me in dismay. “No, I guess there’s not, but-”

“You look fine,” Andrew interrupts. “Let’s go.”

He walks out to his car and Renee gets into the passenger seat, leaving me no other choice but to sit in the backseat with Nicky. I put as much space between us as possible. 

I listen to them making small talk, joining in occasionally, but mostly I stay quiet and look out the window.

The casino is a massive building, all lit up and impossible to miss. Inside it’s even more overwhelming. There are so many people, and bright lights, music and noise. I linger behind Andrew, Nicky, and Renee, feeling more out of place than usual. Andrew is dressed in all black as usual with a designer blazer in place of his leather jacket. Nicky is dressed in a suit, all business. Renee looks as beautiful and intimidating as ever in a tight black strapless dress and shiny heels. My hoodie and jeans seem to mark me as an outsider.

Andrew passes drinks to us all. I ask him “How does this work again? Being a professional gambler or whatever?”

“Watch and observe,” he answers.

The people who work at the casino seem happy to see Renee, recognizing her immediately. I watch her playing poker and observe the way she handles large amounts of money throughout the night.

“Do you need a refill?” Andrew asks me at some point, gesturing to my drink.

I shake my head. “I’ve been so busy watching, I guess I forgot to finish my drink.”

Renee looks over at me and chuckles. “Relax once in a while,” she tells me. “You’re always so serious. Enjoy yourself. Have a little fun. It won’t kill you.”

I don’t know if I agree with her, but I make an effort to finish my drink and look more relaxed. 

“Do you enjoy playing poker?” Andrew asks me.

“I’ve never been to a casino,” I admit.

“Come play some blackjack with me,” he encourages me. 

“I don’t think I’m any good at card games.”

“It’s just for fun,” he assures me. “It’s okay. Maybe you’ll win enough money to buy yourself some nicer clothes.”

“Okay,” I give in. “You look nice.”

“Are you hitting on me?”

I feel my face grow hot in embarrassment. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant-”

He laughs. “I was joking. Relax, Neil.”

I try to turn my focus to the blackjack table, but I lose as I predicted.

“Good try,” Andrew says, suddenly closer than expected. His hand is on my shoulder and I can feel his breath on my skin as he talks quietly into my ear, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the casino. “Isn’t this fun?”

I freeze like a deer in headlights.

“You two look like you’re having a good time,” Renee walks over.

The strange intimacy of the moment is broken as Andrew pulled away and grins at Renee. I feel stupid and embarrassed.

I spend the rest of the night observing. I watch Andrew and his cousin talking with each other, watch Nicky drinking and flirting and laughing, watch the exchange of money and cards in Renee’s hands. I’m positive by the end of the night that she’d laundering money through the casino. Because she’s a well known high-roller, casinos wouldn’t find it suspicious for her to bring large amounts of cash in to keep in their vaults to gamble with. Then she can take it out in the form of a check so she can easily transport it anywhere instead of traveling with piles of cash which would look suspicious. I wonder where the money is coming from exactly. Drug dealing? Or some other criminal activity? I try to listen to their conversations for any clues, but it’s useless. I should know better than to think they’d discuss their crimes so openly, otherwise they would’ve been caught a long time ago.

\---

The next evening, I meet Andrew at the bar and he immediately pulls me aside. “You’re just in time,” he tells me. “Nicky and I have a situation to handle.”

“A situation?”

“This guy owes me a lot of money.”

“Why?”

“He borrowed money from me to repay a gambling debt, but he gambled with that money and dug himself a deeper hole.”

“What are you going to do to him?”

“Fear can be a great motivator,” Nicky says.

I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re going to scare him? How?”

“Come along with us and you’ll see.”

I don’t want to see. None of this sits right with me. But it’s also important stuff for building a case against them. I have to gather all of the evidence and be specific about all of their crimes, including if they threaten people or assault people who owe them money. I need more details about all of this gambling stuff.

I follow them outside to the parking lot where a man is waiting. He’s older than us and I wonder if he has a family or a spouse and if they know about this.

“You know better,” Andrew says to the guy. “You can’t run from this.”

“I just need more time,” he says. He seems agitated and defensive, fidgeting anxiously.

“There’s no more time,” Nicky replies. “That’s not how this works, man.”

“I can get the money.”

“You’ll bring it to me tonight by midnight. No later than that.”

“I can’t get it that fast. That’s crazy.”

“There’s no more time,” Nicky repeats.

“Fuck you! What if I don’t get your money? What are you gonna’ do about it?” The man is even angrier now. He looks at me and frowns. “What the fuck is this guy doing here?” he demands. “Is he your enforce now? What the fuck?”

Andrew puts himself between me and the man, in an almost protective move as if to shield me from the threat. “He’s with us,” Andrew states firmly. “Don’t test us. You won’t be happy.”

My heart is racing. I don’t want to be involved in a fight today. I have to be careful of my involvement with potential crimes too if I don’t want to go to jail with these guys.

There’s a stare down, a long few moments of tense silence. Then the man backs down like a dog with its tail between its legs. “I’ll have the money tonight. I’ll sell my car.”

“Good,” Andrew says, nodding approvingly. 

This has all been a startling reminder who these guys are and the serious amount of criminal activity they conduct on a regular basis. I may not have witnessed any physical violence this time but I know they must have a reputation for it, enough to scare them. People need a reason to be that afraid of them, to be too scared to call the cops for help even as their whole life falls apart.

These people really are dangerous and I need to work quicker. Wymack was right. I’m closer than ever to closing this case, but I’m putting myself in more danger with each passing day. The pressure is on.

I go home but I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it all, so many questions, so much to worry about. My burner phone vibrating on the floor sounds particularly ominous tonight because I know that it has to be Nicky or Andrew and it’s probably not good news. They don’t tend to contact me for a friendly chat ever. Reluctantly, I reach for my phone, squinting at the bright screen in the darkness of my room. ‘I know you’re not asleep,’ the message says. I glance over at my window, checking to make sure the old bedsheet serving as a curtain is still covering it. Andrew can’t see me. It’s still an eerie feeling. He texts me again since I don’t respond. ‘You left in a hurry.’

I answer him quickly. ‘I had a migraine. Sorry.’

‘Are you better now?’

I hesitate, debating on my response. What does he want from me now?

‘I’m taking my motorcycle for a drive. Come with me.’

I say yes, not for him but for me. ‘Okay, I’ll meet you outside Eden’s Twilight.’

I need this. I remember going out for late night drives as a teenager and how freeing it was.

Andrew meets me at Eden’s Twilight with an extra helmet for me. I get on the back of his motorcycle, admiring what a nice bike it is. The black and white Ducati Multistrada is a sporty bike perfect for racing at high speeds. Andrew jumps on the highway and pushes the speed limit, going as fast as he can without breaking the laws. There’s no one to race tonight, just us alone on a joy ride. This isn’t the first time I’ve ever been on a motorcycle. I know enough to be careful how I lean when he makes turns and to not hold on too tight or too lose to his waist.

it all feels exhilarating as we speed through the city streets. I feel freer than ever, like I’m flying. All of the pressure on me, all of my worries, all of it fades away.

I don’t belong to Andrew or to Wymack. I don’t belong to anyone and I don’t want to.


	10. Chapter Ten

I spend the day reviewing security footage for a client who was worried one of their employees was stealing from them. It’s late at night by the time I finish and head to Eden’s Twilight. I find Andrew outside tripping over his own feet. His keys fall to the ground and he scrambles to grab them.

“Woah, Andrew, hold up a minute,” I say to him, grabbing onto his arm to steady him. He leans back against his car and I pick up his keys. “What’s going on?”

“Going home.”

“You’re drunk,” I tell him. “You’re not driving anywhere in that condition.”

He glares at me, reaching for the keys and missing when I pull my hand out of the way. “Give me my keys.”

“I’ll drive you,” I offer. “Let me drive you home.”

He pauses for a moment, apparently thinking it over. “Fine.”

I wait until he’s in the passenger seat and buckled in safely before driving towards his house. “Are you alright?” I’ve seen him drinking all the time, but never to this point. He’s slurring his words and it’s surprising that I can even understand a single thing he’s saying.

“It would have been Katelyn’s birthday today,” he answers, looking out the window.

“Shit… I’m sorry, man.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Why deal with shit when you can just drink and repress it? That seems to be Andrew’s preferred method for handling his grief today.

We arrive at his house and he steps inside, swaying dizzily on his feet. “Don’t go, Neil,” he says to me, putting his arm around my shoulder and leaning his weight against me.

“You just need to go to bed,” I tell him, trying my best to drag him up the stairs. I give up after a couple of failed attempts. “Okay, maybe the couch. The couch is comfortable.”

He mumbles something in German as I steer him towards the couch. He collapses on it and I move to take his boots off. I can leave him here for the night. It’s not my job to comfort him.

“Are you mad at me?”

The question catches me off guard. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“You don’t know what it’s like…”

“I’m not judging you,” I try to reassure him. I drop his boots on the floor and go to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. “Try to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Aaron was supposed to be in charge.”

I freeze at the mention of his brother. Is he actually going to tell me useful information? Is it wrong to take advantage of his drunken state? Maybe if he passes out I can explore the house for clues.

“Sit.”

I sit down and he puts his legs in my lap. It’s awkward but I want him to keep talking, so I don’t move. “What do you mean?” I ask him, encouraging him to continue.

“When we were growing up my parents never gave a shit what I was doing. Aaron was going to run everything.”

“You mean your auto repair business?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing. That’s why Nicky helps. He’s better with money than I am.”

“What are you talking about?” I need something useful to go on.

“Nicky’s so good at it.”

“Good at what?”

He sighs. “Business.”

By business, I’m pretty sure he means crime. At the very least I know that Nicky serves as a sort of criminal contractor, because of the ‘jobs’ he’s ‘helped me find.’ And he clearly runs some type of illegal betting operation, as I witnessed when I street raced for him. But I know there’s a lot more going on with this family.

Andrew covers his eyes with his hands, as if he can’t stand to look at me when he talks to me. “I never wanted any of this. It’s not my choice.”

Shit… I should have left him alone on the couch and gone home. I shouldn’t be listening to this. It’s so personal. He’s vulnerable. I don’t know what to say.

He sniffles, like he’s holding back tears. I want to run away from this whole situation. “I never told anyone this… It’s just… I trust you. You’re so easy to talk to.”

I feel like I just crawled into a spider’s web and got stuck. I am so fucking screwed right now.

This is what I wanted, isn’t it? For him to trust me. But it doesn’t feel good at all.

“I hope these connections can be good for something… that I can find out who killed Aaron. That’s all I want.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I really am, Andrew.”

He takes a deep breath and nods, regaining some composure. “You’ll help me, right?”

I meet his gaze. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“Thanks.” I hand him the cup of water and he drinks it all quickly. “Do you think you can make it to bed or do you want me to leave you here?”

“Guest bedroom,” he says, pointing.

He leans on me and I get him to the lower guest bedroom instead of attempting the stairs again. I turn the light on, glancing around the room quickly. It’s quite clean and boring, white walls, a white dresser, a big bed with a blue quilt.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” I offer. “Nicky? Renee?”

“No, Nicky’s busy and Renee wouldn’t care.”

“I thought she’s your girlfriend?”

He makes a face. “No, it’s not like that.”

I help cover him with the quilt.

“Don’t go,” he says. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head. I’ve already stayed longer than I should have.

“Lay here until I fall asleep.”

“Alright,” I say, reluctantly laying next to him. I leave space between us but he quickly moves in closer. He puts an arm around me and closes his eyes.

“I like you,” he mumbles.

“Thanks, I guess.”

He gets quiet and I’m alone with my thoughts for a few minutes. I reflect on everything that Andrew confessed to me. This is his life, how he grew up, all he’s ever known, so it seems normal to him, like any other job or way of life, instead of crimes. It’s business. That’s all. He’s so far into it because he was born into it and there were no other choices offered. There’s so much pressure on him, so much responsibility to take his dead brother’s place.

‘I never wanted any of this,’ he’d said. ‘It’s not my choice.’

I am seeing Andrew in a different light. I see a guy doing what he has to in order to survive, rather than a villain. It’s always been clear to me that he does his ‘job’ well, but now I’m asking myself is this what he really wants to be doing with his life? It doesn’t seem like it. Now this all becomes a morally gray area. Everything has changed.

Do I continue to pursue this case the same way I was before, even knowing he wants a way out? Do I think he still deserves to be locked away in jail forever? I need to know the exact extent of his participation in crimes and what exactly those crimes include. I can’t make any major decisions without more information.

It would have been so much easier if I never heard any of this tonight. It would have been easier to continue thinking he was just a villain.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if people have lost interest in this story or not?

Andrew is sitting at his desk in the office area of his auto repair business. His computer is open to a blank spreadsheet. He’s not actually typing anything into it, mostly just rubbing his forehead like he has a headache.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” I ask him.

He frowns at me. I don’t know if this is a yes or a no.

“What exactly do you all bet on?” It’s a little bit of a risk being this direct with him but he seems to trust me so I decide to take the chance. “Street racing, obviously. And the casino. But anything else? Sports?”

Andrew shrugs. “Sometimes.”

I’ll take that as a yes.

Feeling bold, I decide to dig even deeper. “What happens if someone doesn’t pay? Is there some kind of punishment for that?”

“Why do you want to know?”

I try to keep it casual. “I’m just curious how it all works.”

“Of course there’s a punishment,” he admits. He pulls some spreadsheets up on his computer and shows them to me. “Nicky and Matt help run everything. Messages get sent out after whatever sporting event, explaining to each person what they won or lost. We have people who are paid to collect the money owed to us.”

“What do you do if they don’t pay you what they owe?”

“I don’t do anything. Other people do.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing good.”

I decide to let it drop, not wanting to risk him getting suspicious of me for asking too many questions. The FBI doesn’t want this info anyway, they want a bigger crime- and I know there are bigger crimes going on here (like Seth pushing an officer off a roof to his death). I need to get proof, though.

Illegal sports betting is extremely common. It is a crime, but nowhere near as bad as murder. Most of the illegal betting going on is crap, but from what I can tell these guys are actually very professional and organized. I’m sure that they collect their debts violently and aggressively. People are probably too afraid to call the cops. I imagine the people paid to be collectors probably do everything from threatening, calling family members, breaking into homes, stealing cars and other expensive objects from the debtors, and especially physical violence.

“You could get arrested,” I say, thinking back to his drunken confession about wanting a different life than this.

“I’m not worried.”

The illegal betting operation won’t get him much jail time, but certain other things certainly would. He could be facing life in prison, but he won’t or can’t stop. His family clearly taught him that this was everything and not to care about the risks.

“Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with your life?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look Neil, life isn’t fair, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Andrew looks into my eyes and all I can do is nod.

After a tense moment, he looks away, focusing on his computer screen instead. “I deal with it.”

This is basically a confession that even though this isn’t what he wants from life, he deals with it anyway. He’s used to it. I know from experience that just because you’re used to something, it doesn’t make it right.

“I can’t change any of this even if I wanted to.”

“Are you sure of that?”

He gets quiet. “The only way out of all of this is if I’m dead.”

Shit… this is all so fucked up. I don’t know why I care so much. I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s because in a different way, I remember a time in my life where I wasn’t in a situation I liked and thought there was no way out. That’s all this is. I don’t care about Andrew. I can’t. It’s my job to make sure he’s arrested for his crimes. But what crimes has he personally committed? And does he really deserve life in prison? Or is there a different option for him? Is there another path for him besides crime, death, or jail?

I lose myself in thought until an alert sounds on his phone startling me. He looks at the text message then shuts his computer. “Come with me,” he tells me. “Nicky says he might have a job for you.”

I don’t like the sound of that, but I follow him anyway. I can’t turn down a job opportunity without ruining my cover story.

When we arrive at Eden’s Twilight, I’m dismayed to see a familiar tattooed face at the bar. He’s just as unhappy to see me too. His wide eyes and unpleasant frown make him seem offended by the sight of me with Andrew.

“Who let him out of his cage?” Andrew asks, gesturing at the man.

“I’m not allowed to be here anymore?” the guy questions.

“Not if you’re going to cause trouble.”

He glares at me viciously then looks back to Andrew. “Why the fuck is he still with you?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Andrew replies.

Nicky walks over now to see what’s going on. “Is there a problem here?” He immediately gets into the tattooed man’s face. “I don’t want to have to kick your ass and get your blood on my floor.”

The man glances nervously between Nicky and Andrew. “Tell him to back off,” he pleads with Andrew.

“Why would I do that, Kevin?”

“Andrew, man, I’m trying to help you,” Kevin, insists. “You can’t trust this guy. I would know. I saw-”

Nicky abruptly punches Kevin in the stomach.

“Are you done having your temper tantrum?” Andrew asks Kevin.

He’s doubled over clutching his stomach. “Yes,” he chokes out.

What was he going to say he saw? Was he going to mention the article he caught me with? Would Andrew believe him? Maybe it would be my blood on the floor tonight. This is all so unsettling, way too close of a call.

“You need to remember who’s in charge,” Andrew tells Kevin. “This is your last warning. Disrespect like this will not be tolerated. I can’t have you here making trouble for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now get the fuck out of here.” Andrew waves dismissively. “I’m done with you tonight.”

I can’t shake off the unsettled feeling for the rest of the night, even when Kevin leaves the bar. Nicky mentions to me an upcoming race that he might be able to set up for me and promises to text me the details soon. I thank him and take the opportunity to go home.

Even when I arrive home, I don’t feel safe. A text message comes in on my burner phone and I expect it to be details about a street race. Instead it’s just an ominous message saying ‘I know who you are.’

I freeze, panic sending a chill down my spine. This isn’t good at all. I don’t recognize the number. Could it be Kevin? It must be. Who else?

I reach for my computer and try to search the phone number online. My computer traces it back to a text app which means it isn’t a number registered to a phone and there’s no name for a cell phone account. It could be anybody, but I’m almost positive that it’s Kevin.

Maybe I’m not fooling anyone anymore. Maybe I never was. Maybe they’ve all been suspecting me this whole time.

I feel sick. This is all going to be for nothing. All of my hard work will be pointless. I’ll have to move and go into witness protection or something. My whole life is going to be ruined, that is if I don’t get pushed off a roof or killed somehow first.

I don’t know what to do. Have I ruined everything? I need to think. I need a plan. My first instinct is to call Wymack, but I remember that he was already warning me to quit this case. I don’t want to hear him saying ‘I told you so.’ This is a problem I need to solve for myself. I am on my own here.

How could Kevin know who I am? Could he really know the truth? How could he have found out? Did I fuck up so badly and not even realize it?

I need to calm down and think. Panicking won’t help the situation. It won’t do me any good.

One thing has always been clear about this case, I can’t afford to second guess myself. If I do, I’ll end up dead. 

I’m going to have to be more careful than ever and be on alert in case someone really does know something about my true identity. I refuse to give up this case so easily. Kevin could be trying to scare me. He might not even know anything for sure. Besides, Andrew didn’t seem to want to hear whatever he had to say. Andrew and Nicky both defended me. They both have trust and faith in me. As long as that remains the same, then I think I’m safe for the moment. I’m going to have to get to the bottom of all of this and fast before the truth comes out about me.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and let me know that you're still interested. It means so much to me! Here's a nice long chapter for you all that I hope you enjoy :)

“I got a new phone and number,” I inform Andrew, holding up my new burner phone for him to see. We’re standing in the parking lot of Eden’s Twilight, next to his car. 

He raises an eyebrow. “It’s not because of Kevin is it?”

“What?”

Does he know about the text message?

“After he bothered you last night at the bar.”

“Oh…no… he didn’t bother me that much,” I say. “I dropped my phone and it broke.” That’s a lie but Andrew doesn’t question it, just types my new number into his contacts list. I wonder how often he changes phone numbers himself in order to avoid his criminal activity being tracked and traced to him. 

“Good. You can’t let him bother you,” he tells me. “He’s always jealous when new people come around and get more attention than him. He thinks he can intimidate you. I think he’s insecure and paranoid.”

“It’s fine,” I insist, considering if it really was Kevin who sent the mysterious text message and what he truly might know about my identity. “What are we doing today?”

“We’re meeting Nicky at the shop to talk with a guy who owes him money.”

I don’t like the sound of that at all. “You’re just going to talk?” I ask skeptically.

“Don’t worry.”

That doesn’t reassure me at all. Still, I don’t see any easy way out of this and it might help me get more evidence of their criminal activity for my case.

When we arrive at Minyard Auto Repair, Nicky is already standing with a man I haven’t seen before and neither one of them look happy.

“I already gave you a chance and you blew it,” Nicky is saying.

“Give me another chance.”

Nicky shakes his head. “That’s not how this works. You’re out of chances.”

I look down at the discolored patch of floor close to where the stranger is standing, the spot that looks like it was scrubbed with a lot of bleach. I can imagine how it got there and I’m afraid a new blood spill might be created right in front of me tonight.

“What can I do?” the man asks. “I don’t have the money for you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I didn’t notice Seth before but suddenly he’s here grabbing onto one of the man’s arms while Andrew grabs the other to trap him from running away. Nicky isn’t holding onto him because he’s holding a gun instead.

My heart nearly stops at the sight of it. I don’t want to be a witness to a murder. I don’t want to be caught up in this at all. I could try to pull my own gun out but that will probably only get me shot as well because I’m outnumbered here. I freeze, waiting to see what’s going to happen before I decide how to react. 

The man uselessly tries to wrestle free, eyes wide and panicked. “Don’t shoot me, please,” he begs. “I’m sorry.” He starts to sob. “I have a wife and a baby on the way.”

“That’s not our problem,” Viktor says. “You fucked up and now you’re going to face the consequences.”

“Please!” the man begs desperately.

“Sorry, man,” Nicky responds as he clicks the safety off on his gun.

“I’ll get you the money!” he shouts frantically. “I can get it for you right now!”

Nicky lowers his gun.

I wait around anxiously, hands in my pockets, outside the office while they conduct business. I can’t hear anything through the closed door. I don’t like being left out, but I’m too shaken up to argue. It’s actually a relief when Andrew reappears and motions for me to join him in his car to drive back to Eden’s Twilight.

“Was Nicky really going to shoot him?” I ask, fastening my seat belt. “Or was it all just to scare this guy?”

“This time it was just a threat,” he admits. “It was an effective way to get the money.”

I don’t like any of this. “Was it your idea?”

“It doesn’t matter who’s idea it was.”

“Do you control your family or do they control you?” It’s a blunt question but there can be no reward without taking a bit of a risk.

“They don’t control me.” He frowns and tightens his grip on the steering wheel, tense and defensive.

I think that I offended him, but I still need a more specific answer. I went into this case being told Andrew was the apparent leader, but now I’m not so sure that he actually is. Taking down a couple lower ranking people in the group won’t be enough to make an impact. I have to collect enough evidence to take the whole organization down at once.

“It’s just… when I got into town, I heard you were the leader around here,” I say,

He shrugs. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”

I think more about the things I’ve seen and heard so far. I remember observing the way Andrew interacts with everyone. It’s his demeanor that seems to demand respect. I think about how he said his brother was supposed to lead and how he’s supposed to lead now in his brother’s absence, how he doesn’t want this and how he said his cousin is better at this stuff.

“So it’s not true then?”

Andrew sighs. “Are you always this annoying?”

I’m not offended. I know I’ve pushed him. And I also know what it’s like when anger is your best defense.

I don’t go back to my apartment right away, making a stop instead to the gas station down the street. I walk through the aisles, on the phone with Wymack, searching for something halfway decent to eat.

“He’s not the leader,” Wymack says, unsure.

“I already asked him and that’s what he said.”

“Ask again.”

None of this is going the way I anticipated. I feel like I’m questioning everything now, even my own morals.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but don’t let it distract you from what’s at stake here.”

“Nothing is going on between us!” I accidentally raise my voice and a teenager with a nose ring looks at me weird.

I grab a cup of soup off of a shelf and hurry to the cash register. Wymack is quiet on the other end of the phone for a few moments. I walk back to my apartment as he starts talking again, apparently deciding what to say to me.

“I’ve seen it before,” he says. “An agent deep undercover getting a little too attached, caring a little too much, getting too emotionally involved. Don’t let it happen to you. I know you’re not an idiot.”

It sounds like he’s accusing me of things and it’s kind of pissing me off. “Maybe I am an idiot.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” he scolds me. “I just don’t want to see you fuck up so badly that you won’t be able to come back from it. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

I know that he cares. I appreciate that. “I know.”

He’s right as usual. I need to remind myself that Andrew Minyard is nothing but a trap for me to fall into and get hurt.

I finish up my call with Wymack, heat up the cup of soup, then go to the laundry room to eat it. I bring with me a can of tuna fish and set it down for Mr. Whiskers. He gobbles it down in a hurry and purrs appreciatively when I pet him.

Eventually I get sleepy and head to bed. I kick off my shoes and strip down to a tee shirt and my boxer briefs, climbing under the blankets. That’s when I hear a text message come in on my new burner phone. I reach to look at it, wondering if it will be something from Andrew. Instead, it’s a message from Nicky. Apparently, Andrew already passed my new number on to his cousin. The message contains details for a race this weekend. ‘Ok, thanks,’ I text back. ‘I’ll be there.’

\---

“Is he going to win?” I hear someone in the crowd asking.

I look up at the dark sky above me. The weather app on my iphone said it might rain, but I’m hoping that it holds off until after the race is done.

“You bet your ass!” I hear Nicky respond enthusiastically.

What would happen if I lost? I don’t want to find out. I get into Wymack’s Dodge Charger and take a few deep breaths, gripping the steering wheel and gazing at the road in front of me. I race tonight as if my life depends on it. In a way, it sort of does.

Something Wymack recommended me about building a fake identity was that the FBI suggests making your fake life close to your actual life- go with what you know. Racing and cars is something I know well. I was lucky that these things from my past happened to fit perfectly with Andrew’s crew.

As I race, I forget everything. All I know is the car and the street. My complete focus is on driving fast and winning. It’s the most freeing feeling in the world. There’s nothing like it. In this moment, I can’t remember why I ever stopped racing.

I win by a couple of seconds and the rain holds off until I finish, the first drops falling from the sky as Andrew comes over to congratulate me. He surprises me with a full on hug, both of his arms wrapping around me. Usually I hate being touched unexpectedly, but I don’t pull away. I don’t want to upset him. I need him to trust me. That’s what this is all about. If he doesn’t trust me then I won’t get any information and I risk my life being on the line.

Nicky gives me a congratulatory high-five and I take the free drink he offers me back at Eden’s Twilight. I also take my share of the money for winning, and put it in my evidence folder for the case.

The next night, I’m supposed to meet Andrew at Eden’s Twilight but I have to change plans last minute. I send him a text. ‘My car’s having an issue.’ I’ve been neglecting it and I shouldn’t have. But I haven’t been able to take on as many clients for the private investigation business, spending most of my time with Andrew’s people, so money has been tight.

‘The Dodge Charger?’ he texts back immediately.

‘No, I only use that one for races.’

It’s not unusual to have a special car only used for races. Some people even have their cars brought to the race on a trailer. It especially wouldn’t be weird for me to not use it daily since they believe I stole it from someone. 

‘I know how to fix it,’ I tell him. ‘But I don’t have the parts on hand.’

I bought my Toyota Camry used and it’s not the first time something has needed to be replaced on it.

‘Can you bring it to my shop?’ he asks. ‘I know a guy with a tow truck if you need it.’

I certainly don’t want some sketchy tow truck driver coming to my apartment and everyone finding out my address. Besides, I’m confident that my car can make it the distance to Minyard Auto Repair without too much trouble. ‘I’ll bring my car there,’ I tell him. ‘See you soon.’

It’s a little after ten at night which means the shop is closed but Andrew is waiting for me when I arrive. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“I think my breaks need replacing.” 

“That’s not so difficult,” he says, immediately getting to work. 

Neither one of us talk much throughout the whole process. I enjoy watching him work, focused and determined. With both of us working together, the job is finished quicker.

“How much money do I owe you?” I ask him, drying off my hands before reaching for my wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells me. “No cost.”

I’m so shocked that for a moment all I can do is stare at him. “What? Are you sure? I can pay for it.”

“It’s fine,” he insists.

“Why?” I can’t help being skeptical and wondering about ulterior motives. People rarely do anything nice for me, David Wymack being the only exception.

Andrew shrugs. “I just want to.”

I’m still in disbelief. I don’t know if I’m supposed to accept this but he’s made it clear that he’s refusing my money. “Thank you, Andrew,” I tell him finally. “I appreciate it.”

He smiles. “Don’t mention it.”

Seeing him smile at me like that steals my breath away for a moment. He really does trust me, I think. He really considers me a friend. It is possible this is part of a plot to blackmail me into owing him later or something but I don’t think so. He genuinely is doing this to be nice to me. It’s not at all what I’d have expected of him after being told how he was a terrible criminal with no soul. I realize now how wrong all of the rumors were about him. Andrew isn’t the person most people think he is. I don’t think he’s a monster at all.

With the exception of Wymack, no one has ever been nice to me or handed me anything my whole life. I’ve had to struggle and work hard for everything I have. I wonder if Andrew knows that… if he knows how much this truly means to me. I imagine he does, because he always seems to guess these things about me without having to be told.

I’m still trying to think of a better way to express my gratitude when his cell phone ring interrupts us. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers it quickly. He never seems to bother much with polite greetings. He just says “What do you want?” He listens for a moment, frowning. “Shit, are you sure?” He gets quiet again for a moment then ends the conversation. “Keep me updated.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“One of our friends has gone missing.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented. I hope this chapter is a treat for you all.

Time seems to freeze for a moment and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Who?”

“Allison, Seth’s girlfriend.”

I didn’t know that Seth had a girlfriend. I don’t remember seeing her at Eden’s Twilight ever. “Are you sure she’s missing?” I think of the mysterious deaths of Aaron Minyard and Katelyn and I hope that Allison won’t be suffering the same fate. If so, then we could have a real and dangerous serial killer on our hands.

“I think so,” Andrew answers. “Her and Seth have an on and off love/hate relationship, but she hasn’t responded to his texts or calls all day and she wasn’t at her house when he went to check on her. Her phone’s going straight to voicemail, which is weird because she never turns her phone off.”

There could be a normal explanation for this, no need to jump to conclusions yet. This is not my first missing person I’ve ever investigated and the last one turned up alive and well. The police probably won’t even take it very seriously yet if she’s only been missing for a day and has a history of disappearing. I obviously can’t tell Andrew about all of this though. I can’t ruin my cover story or risk seeming suspicious for knowing too much about police procedures. “I hope she’s okay,” I say instead. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m going to go help Seth look for her tonight,” he says, reaching for his car keys. “I’ll let you know if we find her.”

He waits until I’m in my car and on the street before he looks up the shop and speeds off.

The next day at Eden’s Twilight, the conversation about Allison continues. She’s still missing. “We didn’t see any sign of her,” Andrew tells me.

“You still haven’t heard from her?” I ask. “Phone still going straight to voicemail?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“She probably got sick of seeing your face and ran away,” Nicky suggests without looking up from texting.

Seth glares at him.

“Has she run away before?” I question.

“Sometimes she has,” Andrew admits.

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Seth snaps at me like a dog who’s territory a stranger is stepping on.

“He wants to help,” Andrew defends me. “He’s being a good friend.”

“Neil is not my friend.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time? I don’t know Allison even puts up with you. Are you sure you didn’t scare her away?”

“Fuck you,” he says, storming away.

As a private investigator, I have so many questions for them, but now doesn’t seem like the right time to bring them up. Maybe if I can get Andrew alone I’ll have a better opportunity to get more information from him.

“Who are you texting?” Andrew asks Nicky, changing the subject.

“Not texting,” he replies. “Sending out e-mail reports.”

“I’ll never understand how you keep track of everything. You make it look effortless.”

Nicky is very smart. I’ve known that since I first met him and it’s only become more obvious that he’s the brains of the whole criminal organization. 

“I’m just good with business,” he says. There they go again using the word business when they really mean crime.

“I didn’t know Seth had a girlfriend,” I say, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“We don’t have to tell you everything,” Nicky replies. “You don’t tell us everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” What is he accusing me of? I think about the ominous text message saying ‘I know who you are.’ What does Nicky know?

“You haven’t told us whether you have a girlfriend or boyfriend back home.”

“Oh…” This is not what I expected to be discussing tonight. Why does he want to know about my love life? I feel like there’s something I’m missing here.

“You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to,” Andrew interrupts.

I think about it all for a moment. Even though I’ve told Andrew more about myself than I’ve told Nicky, I haven’t given Andrew my whole life story either. I’ve carefully chosen what parts of myself Andrew should get to know. It’s not the whole picture. Wymack probably knows me the most but even he doesn’t know everything.

“I didn’t have much family,” I answer truthfully, hoping to make him less suspicious. “My mom died a while ago. My dad’s in jail. No girlfriends…. or boyfriends.”

Nicky gives me this sort of approving nod as if he can sense I told the truth and is satisfied by that. Maybe it’ll help him continue to trust me. I can only hope. 

I take it as a good sign when he tells me that he has a job for me. A ‘client’ is paying good money for us to steal from his ex-wife. He said she took all of his money in the divorce and wants it back. He wants us to steal anything worth money, her jewelry that he’d bought her during their marriage and even her electronics.

“I’ll go with you,” Andrew says. “I can help you disable her security cameras.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You know how to do that?”

“Of course.”

What I don’t tell Andrew about is that I use my connections with Wymack and the police to arrange a deal with the woman. I’ll steal the items from her but then they’ll be returned to her after. Her ex-husband will get into a lot of trouble for arranging this and he’ll never know how the police found out.

It’s all going smoothly when we first arrive at the woman’s house. I pick the lock easily and Andrew disables her security cameras as promised, pulling on and cutting a wire or two. Then we move through her house and put everything into a backpack to steal.

“We didn’t check this room,” Andrew says, opening a door. “Shit.”

I turn to see what the problem is and catch sight of a big dog running towards us. Andrew grabs onto my arm and we both take off as fast as we can down the street.

“This way!” Andrew pulls me into an alleyway behind a dumpster.

We squeeze into the small space together, hiding in the dark. My heart is racing, adrenaline coursing through my body like electricity. He’s pressed against me and we’re both frozen, silent, waiting.

After what seems like an eternity, with no sign of the dog, Andrew announces “I think the coast is clear.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I think so.”

“That was amazing,” he says. “You’re amazing.”

All of a sudden his lips are pressed against my own and it takes me a second to realize that he’s kissing me. I’m so shocked that I just freeze up.

“Fuck,” he curses, stepping out from behind the dumpster into the alleyway. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just caught up in the moment.”

“It’s fine,” I say, trying to shrug it off. “No big deal.”

“Yeah… cool.”

He sounds nervous. I’m even more anxious and shaken up about it, but I can’t let him know that. Instead I go home to my apartment and decide to vent to Wymack.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” I ask him. “It’s kind of important.”

“Neil Josten, what did you do now?” It’s startling to hear him use my full name.

I tell him everything, including the surprise maybe accidental kiss. “Maybe it was just the adrenaline,” I say. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything.” I don’t know if I’m trying harder to reassure him or myself.

“Did you kiss him back?”

“No.” I feel like I have to apologize, like I owe an explanation, and I hate it. I don’t want to owe anyone anything. I don’t want to belong to anyone. My body is my own.

Wymack has been a good boss and even like a father figure at times. He took a chance on me when no one else even looked twice at me. But I’ve more than repaid my debt to him with all of the cases I’ve solved for him. I’m even risking my life for him on this case. I don’t owe him anything anymore.

“I’m going to give you some advice, Neil, because I care about you,” he says to me. “Don’t poke a hornet’s nest with your dick.”

He must think I’m a real idiot. I’m not stupid enough to make out with the guy I’m trying to send to jail. “Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll remember that,”

“Don’t screw this up, alright?”

There’s a lot of pressure on me, not only to solve the case but also to live up to Wymack’s expectations. “Alright, I won’t,” I assure him.

I do trust Wymack and I appreciate his advice but I don’t always have to listen to him or do what he wants me to do. It’s not his life, not his choices to make.

I’m still as determined as ever to put a stop to Andrew’s family criminal organization, but I’m not so sure that he deserves to go to jail with them. I’m not sure that he’s guilty of the things the rumors say. He’s made it clear that he trusts me and I think that I’ve seen sides of him that most people haven’t. All the people who whisper about him and his alleged crimes don’t actually know him at all.

I consider what will happen if I actually do manage to close this case and send his family to jail. There’s no doubt he’ll hate me. I’m going to be the one turning his whole world upside down.

I have a startling realization that I’m reluctant to have to say goodbye to him. But I know that I can’t keep this going forever. I can’t keep him even if I did want to. We’re not really friends. This is all a lie. Pretending for now will have to be good enough.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I can’t remember the last time I was so afraid. It’s like I’m a kid again, feeling helpless and small. I call Wymack first but he doesn’t pick up. I get his voicemail. I hang up and call him back again immediately. I think I might throw up. Please pick up, Wymack. Please. I hear his voicemail again. ‘This is David Wymack, and I’m sorry you missed me. If you leave a message, I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as possible.’

I don’t have anyone else. I’m panicking. I don’t know what to do, where to go… I pull my burner phone out of my pocket and call Andrew.

He answers right away. “Neil, what’s up?”

I can barely breathe. “I need to talk to you. Where are you? Can I come to your house?”

“Yeah, I’m home. Are you okay?” 

The panic in my voice must be obvious. “I’ll see you soon.”

I’m not okay, not at all. It’s a miracle that I even manage to drive to his house with how shaky my hands are. He lets me in, concern written all over his face. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

“Take a breath. Slow down and talk to me,” he encourages.

“I’m going to be sick,” I say, bolting for the nearest bathroom. I lock myself inside the bathroom, struggling to regain my composure. I’m suffocating. Fuck. This can’t be happening. This is my worst nightmare.

“Neil, are you okay?” I hear Andrew asking. “Talk to me.”

I can’t answer him. I can’t form any coherent words. I can’t even breathe. I feel like I’m having a heart attack. Is the room spinning? The walls are closing in.

I feel trapped in my own grave. That’s where I’m probably going to end up if my father ever gets a hold of me. 

I wish this was a nightmare I could wake up from. All the hard work I did, all of the brave steps I took to make a better life for myself, none of it matters. In the end I can never be safe from him no matter what. He still finds a way to get to me.

I’m dimly aware of Andrew knocking rapidly on the bathroom door when I don’t answer him, he startles me by forcefully kicking the door.

He has definitely kicked down a door before, something I should ask him about later when I’m not busy dying. The door makes an alarming cracking sound then bursts open. Andrew reaches for me, pulling me into his arms instantly. “Neil, you scared the shit out of me.”

“S-sorry,” I choke out a weak apology.

“Breathe,” he encourages me. “Slow deep breaths. I’m here, okay? It’s just us. We’re alone and you’re safe with me. Whatever’s going on, I’ll help you. Just breathe.”

I realize that he’s right. For now I am safe.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I take a shaky breath. “My dad escaped prison.”

“Shit… how the fuck did that happen?”

He lets go of me as I start to breathe normally again, but stays close, all of his attention focused on me. He’s looking at me with such concern, like he really cares about me. He’s being so nice, so compassionate and understanding. I still don’t know why he’s so nice to me. It’s honestly very surprising how nice he can be considering all of the terrible rumors and warnings about him and the type of criminal activity he’s surrounded by. I am still figuring Andrew out.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “They didn’t explain and I was so shocked that I didn’t think to ask. They just called me to apologize and say that he’d escaped. They promised they were doing everything in their power to locate him. He could be anywhere. I know he’s going to try to find me.”

“Do you think he can?”

“He’ll find a way. He won’t stop.” 

“Why?”

“I’m the one who put him in jail.”

We move from the bathroom to the couch. “Do you have a cigarette?” I ask him, wanting the nicotine to soothe my nerves. “I forgot mine.”

“Sure,” he says, retrieving a cigarette and lighting it for me.

“Thanks.” For a few moments we’re both silent. I know he has to be curious for an explanation but he doesn’t ask. He waits patiently for me to choose to share my story with him. “When I was really young I used to think it was normal… that everyone’s parents beat the shit out of them. I got a little older and I thought it must be my fault. I wasn’t a good enough kid, I shouldn’t upset him.”

It’s not easy to talk about but I want him to know what happened. I want to share this with him and for him to know the full explanation of what’s going on right now.

“When I got older I started to think maybe that wasn’t true. I realized the way I was treated wasn’t normal or right. I didn’t see a way out of it. I was trapped. But he was involved in some bad crimes and that was my opportunity. I called the police on him.”

It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I was terrified and hoping I was making the right choice.

“I’m so sorry,” Andrew says, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s alright,” I tell him, shaking it off.

“That motherfucker won’t lay a hand on you when I’m around,” he assures me. 

“I don’t want you to fight my battles for me,” I tell him. “I’ve always done this on my own.”

“But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

I know that he means his words. I have no doubt that he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect me. I’d seen him put himself between me and danger already, acting as a shield. All along I’ve always known that Andrew was strong and potentially dangerous. But it’s not frightening to me, it’s comforting to think that he can keep me safe. 

“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

He nods. “You good now?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Would it make you feel better to spend the rest of the night here? You can have the guest bedroom and there’s an extra toothbrush and clean towels in the bathroom.”

It’s already late and I’m beyond exhausted physically and mentally. Going to sleep and knowing that I’m safe in this house with all of its security and Andrew sounds like a relief.

“I’ll stay here,” I agree. 

Andrew gives me my privacy. I go to sleep alone and don’t see him until late the next morning when I wake up. I shower and take advantage of the extra toothbrush.

I find Andrew in the kitchen. “Sleep well?” he asks me. “Help yourself to a sandwich.”

I eat lunch then go back to my apartment to change my clothes. I’m half expecting my father to be lurking there waiting for me. I type up a report for my most recent private investigation case and submit it by e-mail to Wymack, then get ready to go to Eden’s Twilight.

My father may not have found me yet, but my stay at Andrew’s house didn’t go unnoticed. “So you two are official now?” Nicky asks, gesturing towards me and Andrew.

I raise an eyebrow. “Official?”

“You had a little sleepover last night, didn’t you?”

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Nicky knows. He always seems to know everything. And Andrew’s cousin and friends are constantly coming in and out of his house for various reasons. I’ve even seen that they have some clothes and belongings there.

“It’s not like that,” Andrew says.

“So you haven’t fucked Neil yet?”

I gasp, accidentally inhaling my drink, which leads to an embarrassing coughing fit. What the fuck? Why would he think we’re having sex?

“It’s not like that,” Andrew repeats. “Neil got some upsetting news and it was safer for him to stay the night and lay low.”

Nicky stops joking around and looks at me with serious concern. “What happened?”

“My father broke out of jail,” I explain. “I think he’s going to come after me and it won’t be good.” 

“How’d he break out?”

I shrug at the same time as Andrew says “Fuck if I know!”

“So what do we do? Do you want me to try to track him down? Take care of him?”

“Take care of him?” I wonder if that’s even possible. Could Nicky actually track him down? I wonder just how far his connections actually run.

“You know… make him go away forever?”

I don’t think he means prison. “No, I don’t think that’s the best solution. It never is.”

I realize too late that maybe I shouldn’t have said that much. Now he’s staring at me in a calculating way. I always have to be on high alert around him and be cautious with my words. Even the smallest thing could tip him off at my true identity.

“I just mean, he’s still my father, even if he treated me like shit, and I don’t want him dead,” I try to explain. “I just want him back in jail. That’s the best place for him.”

“Of course,” Nicky says, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking now.

“We all have your back,” Andrew promises.

I feel sick worrying about all of this, worrying about my father coming after me, worrying about Andrew’s family discovering my identity, worrying about what they will do at any moment.

“I appreciate that,” I tell Andrew. I sit in silence for a few minutes, holding my drink in my hand but not taking anymore sips. “I just don’t feel well. I think I’m going to go home early tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“I understand,” he says. “Go home and get some rest. Call me if you need anything at all, okay?”

“I will.”

But when I do go home to my apartment, it’s not him I’m calling, it’s Wymack. There’s a text message from him on my iphone. ‘Sorry I missed your calls, is everything okay?’

I lay down on my bed and select his name in my contacts. This time he answers the phone quickly. “Neil, I’m glad you called. I’ve been worried.”

I decide to get straight to the point. “My father escaped prison.”

“Shit…”

“Yeah. It’s not good.”

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?”

“No.”

“When you didn’t text me back I was afraid the Minyard family did something bad to you,” he confesses.

“No, I actually spent the night at Andrew’s,” I admit without thinking.

“You what?”

“I told him about my father. I didn’t know if I was safe at my apartment. Andrew said I could stay there so I did.”

“Neil… you know how that looks, don’t you? I mean, why didn’t you come to me? You know where I live. You really thought the safest thing to do was to stay at a criminal’s home? Why would you even tell him about your father? Are you trying to get caught?”

I frown, feeling insulted. “It was safe there,” I insist. “That house has tons of security.”

“Yes, because they run a major criminal organization!”

I sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re blurring lines. What do you think you’re doing with Andrew Minyard? He’s your target. He’s a criminal you are supposed to be arresting. You aren’t friends. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” I say quietly, like a scolded child.

“I’m really disappointed in you, Neil.”

That stings. Fuck…

“I strongly recommend you drop this case. We’ll let someone else solve it and we’ll be okay without it. Pull out before it’s too late, before you get hurt.”

No one else can solve it. There are bad guys here doing bad things, people ending up dead. They need to be stopped and I know that I can do it. I’m so close. I can’t stop now. 

“Listen to me, Andrew cannot be trusted. If he finds out who you are, you’ll be dead.”

I don’t know if Andrew can be trusted, but there aren’t many other options. I have to trust him a little in certain ways or none of this would work.

Trust is something that doesn’t come easy to me, especially trusting someone with my life. Even if Andrew found out my true identity, I just can’t see him killing me. But Seth… well, that’s a different story. 

“You can’t forget that they’re criminals and you aren’t. You’re not the same. It feels like you’re friends but you’re not.”

“I know. I’m not an idiot.”

“This isn’t like you at all.”

Who is he to tell me who I am or what to do? He doesn’t control me. I don’t belong to him or anyone. I don’t owe anyone. I make my own decisions. 

“I’m tired,” I tell him. “I have to go.”

I hang up the phone and immediately call Andrew. 

“You alright?” he asks me.

“Yeah… I can’t sleep. Can we go for a drive?”

“Sure, meet me at my place in twenty minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, you really don't know how much it means to me. I always worry no one is reading this and it's so good to know that the story is being enjoyed and it always motivates me to write more for you all.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly cannot thank you all enough for your comments. I appreciate it so much. It is what inspires me to keep writing. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

It’s thrilling speeding through the city on Andrew’s motorcycle. I still can’t believe that he let me drive it, that he’s letting me use it in a race. I feel so free and untouchable.

I don’t see the water on the road until it’s too late and the bike goes sliding. But it’s not the first time I’ve ever wiped out on a motorcycle. I react instinctively, letting go of the bike and curling into a ball to protect my head, ready to roll. I grunt at the impact of my fall, landing near the bike and close to the agreed upon finish line.

Andrew is waiting near the finish line and he runs over to help me. The person I was racing is nowhere in sight, maybe getting scared off. I’m sure Nicky will track him down.

“Shit, are you alright?” Andrew asks me as he helps me up on my feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I confirm, taking my helmet off. My clothes are ripped and dirty. I’m bruised and scraped up, but nothing serious.

“Does your head hurt?” Andrew questions, probably worried about a head injury.

“No, I’m good,” I insist. 

“I guess you won’t die. Probably.”

“I’m sorry I lost the race.”

“I don’t care about that,” he says. “Just scared the shit out of me when I saw you crash.”

“I messed up your bike,” I point out.

“Fuckin tragic,” he says sarcastically, shrugging it off.

I watch him call Nicky to come retrieve the bike, listening to him explain what happened. 

“Is he angry with me for losing the race?” I ask him after he ends the call.

He shakes his head. “No, he said he’s glad you’re alright and he’s going to bring the bike to the shop for me. It doesn’t even look too damaged, just a little scraped up mostly. It’ll be as good as new in no time.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I promise. I feel bad for fucking up such a beautiful bike and losing the race like a dumbass.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Andrew…”

He shuts me up with a kiss, pulling me close by my jacket. It’s not like before. This is a rough kiss, no hesitation, no apology. And this time I kiss him back.

Most people would hesitate to be rough with me if they knew my story, but not Andrew. He knows I’m not fragile. And I like it. This is a different kind of roughness because I know he’s not trying to break me.

“C’mon,” he says, let’s get you out of the cold.”

We walk back to where I parked my car and get inside. I immediately turn the heat up. My fingers feel frozen and numb so I give myself a moment to warm up, just sitting there in silence, aware of Andrew’s gaze on me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Nothing’s broken. I’ll live.” I’ve had way worse than a few scrapes and bruises. It’s really not a big deal.

He nods, seeming to accept my answer. “Alright. Nicky will be here soon and he’ll give me a ride home.”

“Okay.” I fight the urge to apologize again. He’d driven his bike here and now he won’t be able to drive it again until it’s repaired. 

“Nicky knows I like you,” he says suddenly. “He’s smart. I don’t have to tell him.”

It makes sense I guess. And it’s not really a surprise to me that Nicky would pick up on something like that without having to be told. He’s very observant and highly intelligent. It’s not a comforting thought for me because I’m always afraid he’ll figure out my identity.

“Did you tell him that you’re into guys or did he figure that out on his own too?” I question.

Andrew chuckles. “He guessed that too. But it never bothered him. He was cool with it.”

Andrew is lucky that way, to have family support. I don’t know what that’s like. If my father had ever found out about my sexual orientation it would have just given him more reason to despise me. “Have you been with a lot of guys… or girls?”

“I’ve been with a few guys and girls, but nothing serious. I don’t go on dates. That’s not me.”

“Me neither,” I admit. I’ve never been on a date and I don’t know if I’d even want to. It seems like a lot of pointless stress and awkwardness.

“What about you? Have you been with many people?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling a little shy. “No, just a couple one night stands.”

I’ve never felt comfortable enough to trust someone and let them know everything about me, be vulnerable and open that way. Yet here I am telling my whole life story to Andrew. What am I doing?

I’ve gotten myself into so much trouble. I’m in too deep. Fuck me.

Nicky arrives soon to collect the bike and Andrew. I say goodbye, telling him I’m going home to rest because I feel like shit. He lets me go understandingly.

Part of me wants to ask him why he likes me? Why did he kiss me? But I don’t think I’m ready to know the answer. I can’t do this.

I get home and strip out of my dirty clothes, quickly cleaning and slapping some band-aids on the worst of the scrapes. I stretch out on my bed and call Wymack. It’s been two days since I talked to him last and I’m feeling kind of bad about how we left off.

“Neil,” he answers the phone quickly. “How are you holding up?”

Even after our argument, his care and concern for me is genuine and unending. It makes me feel guilty. I remember him saying he was disappointed in me and it makes me feel even more like shit. “I’m alright,” I tell him. “It’s been a long night.”

“Any sign of your father?” 

“No, luckily not. But I haven’t heard that they caught him yet either.” It’s extremely unsettling and unfair to think of him out there running free. Will he inevitably catch me before they catch him? It’s like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

“I have some friends of mine looking into it,” he informs me, catching me by surprise.

“You do?”

“Of course,” Wymack says, like it should have been obvious. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, wishing I had better words to explain how grateful I am. I don’t know if I could ever thank Wymack enough.

“I worry myself sick over you, kid,” he says. “It’s giving me heart burn.”

“Wymack… you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know.”

For a moment I’m silent, trying to think of something good to say. I settle on “You were right.”

“About what?”

I sigh. “Getting myself in too deep here.”

He could say I told you so, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Part of me wishes that I never took this case on. It’s made my life so much more complicated.

“Be careful,” Wymack tells me. “If you get into any trouble you know my number.”

“I will,” I promise him.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? These things happen to the best of us. No one is perfect, you know. We all make mistakes. But you live and you learn. When you’re as old as me someday you’ll see that.”

“You’re not that old,” I tell him, smiling a little in spite of myself.

“You’re a good kid, Neil. Don’t forget that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to get the apology out that I owe him after our last call. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“You could never really disappoint me,” he reassures me. “I’m proud of you. You’re a great fucking detective and great kid. You’re going to do great things in life, I’ve always known that about you.”

I don’t know what to say. I think I’m speechless. No one’s ever told me these things. Deep down like any other kid I had always wanted to hear those things from my own father and never would. But knowing that Wymack is proud of me is the highest praise I can think of. 

“Thanks, Wymack. I appreciate that.”

“No problem. Now try to get some sleep. We can talk about this more later.”

“Sounds good,” I say. I need to sleep on this before I make any major decisions regarding my next move. “Goodnight Wymack.”

“Goodnight Neil. Take care of yourself.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“Give me the key!” Andrew demands.

Seth glares at him in response, gripping the key tightly in his fist. 

“Just hand it over,” Nicky says, trying to play referee. 

“What is your problem?” Andrew asks Seth.

“I just don’t want you two fucking anything up in there,” he insists, scowling in my direction while handing the key over to Andrew.

Andrew drives me to Allison’s house. She’s still missing and I’ve decided to try to investigate. I can’t let it go and ignore it or I’ll never be able to forgive myself if more people end up hurt. Besides, figuring out this mystery will give me closure and then I can move on with my life. Things can all go back to the way they were before, or at least that’s what I like to tell myself.

We arrive at a small blue house in a crowded lower class neighborhood. I look at the old chipped white paint on the door, searching for clues, as Andrew unlocks it. 

“She has a roommate, but she’s been staying with family the last couple days, too upset about Allison being missing and maybe afraid too. I don’t know.”

“Any updates from the police?” I ask him.

He shakes his head and opens the door. I follow him inside and look around quickly. Nothing appears out of the ordinary at first glance.

“This is her room,” Andrew says, opening the door to reveal her bedroom.

It’s clearly untouched for days. There’s some posters on the walls of some sports team and random magazines on the foot of her bed.

It looks as if she just vanished into thin air. There’s no sign of a crime, no sign that she was planning on going away either considering all of her stuff is still there.

“Did she have a purse?” I ask Andrew. 

He shrugs. “Don’t all women?”

“Then where is it?” I open her closet door, finding nothing but shoes, clothes, and an old teddy bear.

“I don’t know.”

“No one’s found her cell phone either?”

“No, it’s still going straight to voice mail too.”

“What about her car? Did she have a car?”

“Yeah, she did. A shitty used Honda Civic.”

“No one’s seen that around either?”

Andrew shakes his head.

That’s all so puzzling. It’s still possible she ran away but I wonder if something bad could have happened to her too.

“Did she have a job?” I ask.

“Yeah, she worked at this sports store a couple blocks from here.”

What role did she play in the Minyard family criminal organization I wonder? Could her disappearance have something to do with that? I can’t ask about that though.

“Do you know a way we can contact her roommate? Maybe she might know something,” I suggest.

“Yeah, let me make a couple calls.”

Less than hour later Allison’s roommate shows up. She looks like she’s been crying and her makeup is all smudged. 

“What happened the last time you saw her?” I ask.

“The night before she went missing she told me she was going out to eat with Seth,” she answers. 

“Seth said he didn’t see her that night,” Andrew points out.

“So it was a lie then?” I question, raising an eyebrow. Who is hiding what? “Did she lie a lot about where she was going?” I guess that could make sense if she was involved in some type of criminal activity. 

“She usually told me everything I think,” her roommate says. “We were like best friends.”

I wonder how true that actually is.

“Anyway, we hugged goodbye quickly and she told me she would see me later. I went to bed because I had a headache that night. I woke up a little after midnight and realized she still wasn’t home. I tried to text her. I asked her where she was and if everything was okay. When she didn’t respond I sent another text message telling her I was starting to worry and for her to please respond.”

“What happened after that?”

“I found Seth’s number and I called him to see if she was with him. He said he hadn’t seen her. I’ve been posting pictures of her on social media and asking if anyone has seen her but so far nothing. I’m so worried she’s out there somewhere needing help.”

“How was her mood that day?” I ask. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

“She was fine,” she answers. “Everything was normal. She would never run away without telling me where she was going.”

“Thanks,” Andrew tells her. “We’re going to keep looking for her. We’ll find her.”

As soon as I get back to my apartment I make some calls and pull up some things on my laptop. I find out that the cops were able to ping her cell phone. Cell phones that are turned on constantly send pings to nearby cell phone towers to find the nearest strongest signal. The towers keep a log of pings. The last ping from her phone was in town the evening she went missing, around the time she supposedly would have been meeting Seth for dinner.

I don’t know what any of it means. There’s not enough evidence yet. I need to find out more about the criminal organization and who was involved in what.

I shut my laptop as my burner phone vibrates. It’s a text message from that same text app number. How did they get my new number? Shit.

My heart starts beating faster nervously as I open the message. It says ‘Leave the Minyards alone or suffer the consequences.’ This is clearly intended to be a threat. It’s obviously from the same person who sent the first message. Could it be Kevin, the man with the face tattoo that has been causing me all of this trouble? Surely it’s no coincidence.

Impulsively I text back this time with a quick response ‘Fuck you.’

I don’t receive any more text messages but the next night at Eden’s Twilight Kevin just happens to show up.

He talks to Andrew in his ear quietly so that I can’t hear what he’s saying but judging by the frown on Andrew’s face it’s nothing good. Andrew shakes his head.

Kevin raises his voice. “He’s trash!” I hear him saying, talking about me presumably. 

“What the hell is your deal?” Andrew raises his voice as well.

“He’s a nobody,” Kevin insists. “Why is he even hanging around here? Why do you like him so much? Just because you want to fuck him?”

“That’s none of your fucking business, Kevin.”

“What is he really doing here? Did you even check into his background? He’s shady, Andrew. What if he’s a cop?”

I freeze, trying my best not to panic or show any reaction to the word ‘cop.’ I half expect someone to shoot me now over the suggestion that I’m working with the law.

There’s a rare look of surprise on Nicky’s face. “I can tell he’s not a cop,” he says. “I would have figured that out. You know I’m good at figuring everything out.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t brag about the things he steals if he was a cop,” Andrew adds, much to my relief. Maybe I won’t die after all today.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Kevin turns to face me directly now.

“Back off,” I tell him.

“Make me.”

He’s challenging me, trying to start a fight. I try hard not to be the violent type but sometimes it’s unavoidable. I need to defend myself.

I don’t think Kevin is expecting me to make the first move. I catch him by surprise when I hit him, and that gives me the advantage I need to win the fight. I go to the ground with him, continuing to hit him as he falls. I don’t stop until Nicky and Andrew drag us apart.

Kevin is quick to get to his feet despite his wounds. He moves his hand to his side as if reaching for a weapon. “Don’t,” Nicky warns him.

I’m still on the floor, not moving, just watching what’s happening.

“Are you alive?” Andrew asks me.

“Clearly,” I respond.

“Good, get up.” He reaches his hand out to grab my hand and help me up onto my feet. 

I didn’t even notice Matt approaching until he’s here dragging Kevin outside.

“Holy fuck,” Nicky says, shaking his head.

I don’t know what to say. Everything is so tense. My knuckles are sore and a bruise is forming on my jaw but Kevin wasn’t able to get many good hits in.

“How do you want this handled?” Nicky asks Andrew finally. “We support you.”

They are looking to him to be the leader again.

“We don’t allow mistakes,” Seth says as he walks over now and joins in on the conversation having seen the end of the brawl between me and Kevin. “This is going to cost him. He’s going to have to pay.”

“Money?” I can’t resist asking.

“No.”

A chill goes down my spine and I fight the urge to shiver.

“Look, maybe you shouldn’t kill that guy,” I try to suggest.

“What?” Seth glares at me like he wants to murder me along with Kevin.

“Maybe there’s a better way to handle this.”

“He’s fucked up so many times,” Nicky says. “This can’t keep happening.”

“I don’t want anyone to be killed because of me,” I insist. “Isn’t there some other way?”

I look to Andrew and he meets my gaze. After a moment he nods. “I think I have an idea,” he says. “We’re going to tell him to leave town tonight.”

“If he comes back here he’s dead,” Seth hisses.

I wait around while the cousins go have a private conversation with Kevin. When they return Andrew buys me a drink. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks me.

I nod and take a sip of the alcohol, trying to calm my nerves.

“Who taught you how to fight?” he asks me.

I shrug. “I grew up in a tough neighborhood.”

He nods, satisfied with my honest answer. I finish my drink then make up an excuse to leave, eager to get away from all of the Minyard family.

I didn’t let them kill Kevin but now that means the truth is dangerously close to coming out about me. I need to get out of this before it’s too late. This is too much. I don’t want to die.

Andrew is unhappy to see me going so suddenly and tries to convince me to go back to his house with him for more drinks.

I’m beginning to panic, desperate to escape. “You can’t control me,” I say. “I’m going home.”

He seems offended. “You’re right,” he replies bitterly. “Why would I give a shit what you do. Go do whatever you want, Neil.”

I’m on the verge of a full blown panic attack when I get back to my apartment. My whole life is falling apart. Who’s going to kill me first, Andrew’s family or my father?

I call Wymack a couple times but he doesn’t answer. I take a shower and try to breathe deeply and calm myself. I toss and turn, trying to figure a way out of this mess. I’m in so deep that it won’t be easy to get out alive. I should have listened to Wymack’s warnings. I know he’ll have advice for me, he always does. He’ll help me out of this nightmare.

It’s the middle of the night when my iphone rings. I’m half asleep as I reach to answer it, thinking that it’s strange for Wymack to be returning my call so late at night. Except it’s not Wymack calling. It’s his wife Abby and she’s crying. “Neil, David’s in the hospital,” she sobs. “He’s had a heart attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope at least a few of you are still reading and enjoying this story


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning for some slight sexual content in this chapter*

“He talked about you sometimes.”

“He did?” Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Yes,” she nods, dabbing at her smudged makeup and tears. Her hair is pulled back in a bun and she’s wearing a long black dress. Her shiny black shoes are partially covered in mud but she doesn’t seem to notice or care. The rain has slowed down to a slight drizzle and she’s gripping an umbrella but it’s not open. “Thanks for coming, Neil.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Of course I came. I’ve interacted with Wymack’s wife briefly at times when she’s stop by the office to say hello or bring Wymack lunch. She was always so cheerful and kind but today she is not smiling.  
I stayed to the back of the crowd, letting his grieving family and police friends have their space. She still found me. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell her, because that’s what people usually say in these circumstances, right?

“Thank you,” she says, sniffling. “He’s…” She pauses and looks up at the sky. “He’s with our son.”

Wymack mentioned that he had a son who passed away as a baby but he didn’t talk about it much. I didn’t bring it up either. It didn’t seem like any of my business.

“Sure,” I agree, nodding. If that makes her feel better then I’m not going to say any different. Besides, who really knows where we go when we die?

“There was something special about you,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you that he thought of you like the son we didn’t get to have. He thought very highly of you and I know you’ll miss him. I’m sorry for your loss too, Neil.”

I wasn’t prepared for this at all. The impact of her words makes my heart ache. Shit… 

“Thank you, Abby, that means a lot to me.” I struggle to find the words to express just how much I cared about Wymack too and how I feel about losing him. I’ve never been one to talk too much about my emotions. “Wymack meant a lot to me too.” He wasn’t just my employer, he’d become like a father figure to me in the few years that I knew him. He did so much for me, taught me so much, and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for that.

She gives me a soft pat on the shoulder then disappears into the crowd and I make a break for my car before anyone sees me crying. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life in all the time I’ve been alive, it’s that life is not fair. I don’t remember the last time I felt this devastated, lost, and alone. It hurts.

I kick off my muddy shoes, strip my wet rain-drenched clothes, and throw myself into bed. I reach for the bottle of whiskey beside my bed and attempt to drown my sorrows enough to sleep. I’m exhausted by the funeral and my recent insomnia. 

I manage to doze off for a while, haunted by images of my father. In my dream I’m running and he’s everywhere I turn. I hurry down an alleyway and at the end is Wymack in his hospital bed, his crying wife holding his limp hand. I back up and try a tunnel, only to be stopped by the sight of Wymack’s closed coffin. I was relieved that it was closed. I couldn’t handle seeing Wymack’s dead body laying there. I don’t want to remember him that way. I run and end up on a rooftop where Seth standing. He grabs me and starts wrestling with me, “I know who you are,” he sneers. “I’m going to push you off of this roof.” I toss and turn the rest of the night, turning my burner phone off to ignore the questioning text messages from the Minyard family. 

The next afternoon as I’m sitting on my couch watching pointless reality television on my phone to distract myself, I get an unexpected call. It’s Wymack’s wife. “Abby?” I ask, wondering what she could possibly want to say to me.

“Hello, Neil,” she greets me. “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” I say, which isn’t completely truthful. “How are you?”

It’s a stupid question but she answer it with grace. “I’m holding on,” she says. “I called you today for a reason.”

“What is it?” I sit up, more alert.

“Wymack left a will, he updated it officially six months ago.”

“Okay… is there some type of problem?” Why is she telling me this? Does she need me to investigate something?

“No problems,” she assures me. “I’m calling you to inform you that you’re in Wymack’s will.”

Time seems to freeze. Did I hear that right? Is this really happening? I don’t know how long I’m silent in shock but she waits patiently for me. “What does it say?”

“He wanted to leave his private investigations business to you.”

“What?” Surely I’m not hearing any of this correctly.

“He also left you his sports car, the Dodge Charger, and some money.”

No, no, no- there must be some mistake. “Me?” I ask, just to be sure this isn’t a misunderstanding.

“Yes, you. He left you 10,000 dollars.”

I think I’m going to have a heart attack. “What?”

“We didn’t have any children to leave anything to. He left other things to me, our family and friends, but he trusted you with his business. I don’t want it. I’m not a detective. And I’d rather see his business continue to live on in good hands. If he trusted you then I trust his opinion. He knows you love that car as much as he did. I’d never drive it, not my style. And the money… he wanted to help you and give you the best chance to succeed in life that he could. He cared a lot about you, Neil.”

I’m struggling to process this, struggling not to cry because I hate crying. This is so overwhelming. I knew Wymack cared about me and I’m forever grateful that he took a chance on me fresh out of college and took me under his wing. I don’t know where I’d be without him. I don’t know where I’ll be now… My life is a disaster. Everything has changed. How am I supposed to do this without Wymack?

“What about you?” I ask her. “You could see the car, you can keep the money. I don’t-”

“I have enough money. Don’t worry about me. He worried about you, wanted to take care of you so you’d be all set in life. Let him help you. It’s what he wanted. Would you deny him his last wishes?”

No, I wouldn’t. “I don’t know what to say. This is so…”

“Unexpected?” she guesses. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thank you,” I tell her.

When I hang up I lay flat on my back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. A few tears escape and I wipe them away quickly with my sleeve, muttering under my breath “Damnit Wymack.”

I still can’t believe he did this. He’s done more for me in two years than my father ever did my whole life.

Of course I inherited my father’s business when he was imprisoned. I decided to sell it. I didn’t want anything to do with that place. I used the money for college and I never looked back after that.

What did I ever do to deserve all of this from Wymack? I don’t understand. Why did he think I was so special? I wish I could talk to him. I don’t know how to do this without him.

\---

I’ve barely left my bed for a week, except to attend Wymack’s funeral. I texted Andrew once to say ‘I’m fine. Leave me alone.’ Then I shut my phone off. I open it now and there’s more texts, missed calls, and voicemails than I expected. Mostly from Andrew and Nicky asking me if I’m okay and what’s going on, why I’m ignoring them, where I am… 

‘I’m worried about you,’ Andrew says in one of the messages. I continue ignoring it until my phone explodes with about a million calls from him late at night, one after another, until I finally answer.

“What do you want?” I ask him.

“Get out of bed.”

“Do you fuckin’ mind?” I snap. “It’s midnight! I’m trying to sleep.”

“You’re not asleep or you couldn’t be talking to me right now.”

“I don’t know if you noticed but I’ve been trying to ignore you.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, I have bigger problems,” he informs me. “We found Allison’s car abandoned in a parking lot. I’m worried about her and you’re the only one who can help me. Please.”

He sounds genuinely worried and is practically begging me. I can’t ignore this new clue. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

I don’t know what I’m expecting Andrew to say to me when I walk through his door. He greets me simply saying “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment,” I reply, taking a seat on the couch. “Tell me about the car.”

Andrew sits down, leaving space between us. He pulls a picture up on his phone of an old Honda Civic. “It was in an abandoned parking lot not too far from here. There’s a hardware store that went out of business a couple years ago so the building’s all boarded up. Why would she go there? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who found it? Who sent that picture?”

“One of Allison’s friends found it. They’ve been searching everywhere for any sign of her since she went missing. They sent the picture to her roommate who sent it to me.”

“Did they call the police?”

He nods. “They’re probably searching the car for fingerprints and shit as we speak. I don’t understand… Her and Seth had their rough patches but she wasn’t the type to just vanish without telling anyone. I’m really worried, Neil.” He rubs his forehead as if he’s getting a headaches stressing over this. He does seem genuinely distraught over this and I can’t help but feel a little sympathy for him. I’m not heartless.

“We’ll find her,” I say, because it’s something I would probably say to a client in this situation. It’s meant to be comforting. 

I am determined to figure this all out somehow. I don’t think I can rest easy at this point until there’s a resolution. I’ll just keep turning this case over and over in my head until I get to the bottom of it one way or another.

Andrew just nods and an awkward silence stretches between us, tension so thick in the air that it’s suffocating. 

“Are you going to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” he finally asks.

The question feels like a punch to the gut. I knew it was coming, I tried to brace myself for the impact, but it still makes me feel sick. Of course he’s going to want answers from me. Answers that I can’t and don’t want to give.

“It’s complicated,” I say, which is the honest truth. It’s better to tell him a partial truth than an outright lie. He’s annoyingly good at reading me and knowing the truth about things even when I don’t tell him. It makes me feel vulnerable. No one’s ever known and understood me with such ease before and I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about that.

He nods, and doesn’t press me for more details. Why does he always have to be so respectful that way? Why doesn’t he get angry and demand an explanation? He has to be curious but he’s waiting for me to decide when or if I feel comfortable telling him about it. Andrew is not the evil villain I expected him to be. I almost wish he was. It would have made this all less complicated. Good and evil would all be clear, no operating in this morally gray area wondering if I’m doing the right thing, and maybe I wouldn’t care so much then.

“You look like you haven’t showered or shaved in days,” he observes. “No offense.”

I guess I can’t really be offended by it because it’s the truth. “Yeah.” No use trying to deny it.

“Why don’t you use my shower?” he offers. “I kept that toothbrush here for you.”

He kept that toothbrush here for me. Hearing him say that stops me in my tracks. It shouldn’t be a big deal but it is. It makes it seem like he cares about me, my wellbeing and safety, and wants me to be comfortable here in his home. He wants me to stay here.

“Thanks,” I manage to say. “I appreciate it. I guess I’ll go take a shower then.”

“You can borrow a clean pair of clothes from me.”

He steps away quickly, returning soon with a folded pair of black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. I don’t know what to say anymore so I take the clothes without a word and lock myself into one of the guest bathrooms.

The door is all fixed, showing no signs of damage from Andrew kicking it open. The toothbrush I used before is still sitting there by the sink waiting for me to return.

I set the clothes down on the counter and turn on the shower. I kick my dirty clothes into a pile near the door then step inside the shower. The warm water feels amazing. Why haven’t I taken a shower sooner, I ask myself. The warmth is comforting.

I wash myself then stay there breathing in the steam and letting the water rain over my tired body. I don’t know how long I’m in there, it seems like an eternity, but the hot water never runs out unlike at my apartment.

I grab the clean towel hanging on the towel rack and dry off slowly, taking my time, hoping that Andrew won’t have more questions for me when I leave the sanctuary of the bathroom.

I put his clothes on and take a deep breath before I open the door. Andrew is waiting on the couch for me and there is a fire going in his fireplace. 

“All better?” he asks me.

I sit down next to him and shrug in response. “I guess so.”

He reaches towards me and I flinch automatically. He notices and moves slower like you would if you were trying not to spook a wild animal. He brushes a stray damp strand of hair away from my face and then his hand comes to rest on my shoulder. 

Why can’t I just let all of this go? I should. Wymack wasn’t wrong about that, when he tried to warn me. I should have listened. Now… now I don’t want to let it go. I can’t. Because all of this matters to me. It’s not just fake anymore. I feel real things about this.

“I was so worried about you,” Andrew tells me.

He worried about me. He cares about me. I’m frozen with the weight of this knowledge.

Andrew kisses me, catching me off guard, making me tense momentarily before relaxing and melting into his embrace. I kiss him back eagerly and he pulls me into his lap. He runs his fingers through my hair and his tongue slips between my parted lips. I lose track of everything, forget all of my worries, the world fading away so that it’s just us together in this moment and nothing else matters.

“Neil,” he whispers my name in a way that sends a shiver down my spine in a good way. He nips at my neck.

I can’t control myself. I rock my hips against him and he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he praises me, saying “Good boy,” and the praise turns me on more than anything.

The hand not tangled in my hair moves to the waistband of the sweatpants. “Can I?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. 

He pulls the sweats down and my hard cock springs free between us, eager for him and his touch. He strokes me, all the while kissing and nipping at my neck, whispering praises in my ear. 

“Andrew,” I give a strangled grasp.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

I cling to him tightly, closing my eyes, losing myself in the pleasure, coming undone in his arms. 

He doesn’t seem to mind the sticky mess drying between us, he just holds me for as long as I need. He tucks me back into the sweatpants and I’m already falling asleep. I’m barely aware of him leaving momentarily, coming back with a blanket which he drapes over me. He snuggles back up with me on the couch and I sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay due to life and being sick. Is anyone still reading this or interested in this?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

I wake up to the sound of Nicky Hemmick’s voice. “Oh shit, you didn’t tell me you had company,” he says to his cousin.

I sit up on the couch and rub my eyes, yawning.

“You spent the night here and you’re wearing Andrew’s clothes,” Nicky is observant as ever. “You two finally fucked?”

“No!” Andrew tries to shut down the conversation. “We didn’t. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Nicky gives me a skeptical look. “Neil isn’t that difficult to read.”

I hate hearing that. I hate the way he looks at me. These guys are all too smart for their own good and it’s going to be my downfall. If Nicky finds out my true identity I have no doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Seth and have me eliminated.

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps. “I’m warning you.”

Nicky shrugs it off but lets the subject drop. “Well, it’s good to see you alive and well. We were starting to think you ran away or something.”

“What did you come here for?” Andrew questions him.

“I wanted to talk to you about some business.”

I don’t like the sound of that… When they say business it usually means crime.

The two cousins disappear into another room to speak privately. 

I feel awkward just sitting here in Andrew’s house all by myself, waiting for his family to stop discussing illegal activities.

Luckily I don’t have to wait too long. Nicky soon returns, carrying a dusty box full of file folders. “Found it!” he declares.

“We have some business to discuss with our accountant,” Andrew informs me. “Do you want to come along?”

I’m surprised that he’s inviting me to discuss ‘business.’ He really does trust me. If he was suspicious at all he wouldn’t take me along for this. 

“Yeah, sure,” I say, shrugging as if it’s not a big deal.

This could lead to me getting a lot of good information that will help me close this case. I need to close it. I’m ready. The closure would be a relief. It would make Wymack proud if he were here to see it. It’ll be good for his business that he trusted in my hands. I owe this to myself after all of my hard work and the time I have put into this UCO. I have risked my life for this. It’s time for the bad guys to go away and pay the consequences for their choices and to get off the street where they can’t hurt anyone anymore. 

I feign boredom on the drive, sitting in the backseat and staring out the window, listening to Nicky talk about some football game he watched recently. The accountant’s office looks normal and not very suspicious.

There’s even a kind older lady at the front desk watering a potted plant who smiles and waves when she sees Andrew and Nicky walk in. 

The accountant, a nerdy looking guy with thick glasses, is caught off guard to see that the Andrew and Nicky did not come alone. “Oh,” he says, glancing at me nervously. “I didn’t know we would have such a crowd today. I’ll uh… grab an extra chair from another office. Make yourselves comfortable.”

He drags the chair in for me and I sit between Andrew and Nicky. The accountant sits at his desk and opens his laptop. I notice a picture on his desk of a golden retriever wearing a pink bow in her fur, most likely the accountant’s dog, no family pictures though. The walls have ugly wood paneling on them and some generic painting of a lake hanging behind his desk.

Nicky hands the accountant the paperwork he brought with him and there is silence as he looks through them quickly and types some things into his computer. “Thanks for bringing this in,” he says finally. “I’ll make sure the money is transferred from your parents company to your bank account right away, Nicky.”

“You’ll handle it personally?” Andrew asks. “Not one of your trainees?”

“My employees are fully capable,” the accountant says, straightening his tie and loosening it repeatedly in an anxious manner. “But I can handle this directly if that’s what you’d like. I understand the uh… the importance of this business transaction.”

I have no idea what they’re negotiating right now. What company does he mean? Why is money being transferred into his account? This all sounds highly suspicious, especially with the way the accountant seems so anxious. Is he always that nervous or is it my presence that’s throwing him off?

I need to get him to admit to aiding in crime but how should I do that? I don’t think Andrew brought me along to add in my opinion about any of this. I have to be careful with my questioning. I’ve never been in a situation exactly like this before.

“What’s going on?” I ask Andrew quietly. He waves his hand at me in a dismissive gesture as if to say he’ll explain to me later. I can only hope he does.

“Some people owe us money,” Nicky says. “I’m talking hundreds of thousands. Have you been keeping track?”

“Yes, yes, I can uh… I can send you a report right away,” he nods quickly.

“Hundreds of thousands?” I ask, pretending to be more shocked about this news than I actually I am. If I know too much about their story it could be a red flag. “From betting on sports?”

It’s not really that shocking considering that it’s the most popular form of gambling in the country worth billions of dollars a year. But I want to get a confession. I can’t let this meeting go by with no solid information if I hope to solve this case anytime soon.

“Yes,” the accountant admits. “I’ve got that all handled.”

It’s not the biggest information I could get but it’s a start. The accountant admitting that he helps with tracking their illegal sports betting is better than nothing.

“Thank you,” Andrew says. “We appreciate it. Keep up the good work.”

On the drive back to Andrew’s house I try to fish for more information but Andrew is staying quiet about it.

“What was that all about?” I question. “What business did he mean?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he brushes off my inquiry.

Seth is waiting for us when we arrive. He asks us how it went and pours us all drinks. “I trust it was all handled?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Nicky tells him. “It’s all good.”

He nods approvingly, handing me a drink as well. 

“Thanks,” I say.

“Whatever,” he replies.

“Does your family have a lot of businesses?” I ask Andrew, sitting down near him on the couch.

“Isn’t that the American dream?” he says. “Everything my family has, we all worked our asses off for it. If you want success then you can’t be afraid to get your hands dirty. You have to earn it.”

“Makes sense,” I agree. But it doesn’t really make sense if you’re talking about a criminal enterprise. That’s not respectable at all. And it’s unsettling to hear Andrew act as if it is. Have I completely misjudged his true character? Is he so brainwashed by his family that he won’t see any other way except what they’ve told him? What am I even hoping happens to him in the end? What do I want out of this?

“You’re damn right,” Nicky says enthusiastically, raising his glass as if toasting to Andrew’s mini speech. “You have to take what you want in life. No one’s gonna’ give it to you.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted more out of life?” Andrew asks me.

Of course I have. I worked hard for it but not by committing crimes. I earned my place in life the old fashioned way. “Yeah, obviously,” I answer.

“And you’ll have it as long as you stick with us.”

I can barely stomach my drink after that, too much on my mind. When I go home to my apartment I double check my locks before kicking off my shoes and starting up my computer. I pull up my bank account, staring at the new money in it from Wymack. I remember Nicky saying ‘you have to take what you want, no one’s gonna’ hand it to you.’ I still can’t be sure I earned this money that Wymack left me. I consider all of the things I could do with it… pay my bills, buy nicer clothes, maybe even find a better apartment to rent.

I transfer enough of it to pay my rent for the next couple months, vowing to pay it back when I solve this case. The rest of the money is deposited into my savings account for a greater purpose that I have yet to decide on.

I’m about to turn off the computer when I notice a new email. It’s from one of Wymack’s associates. ‘Neil,’ it reads. ‘David asked me to look into this person’s whereabouts. He instructed that I should e-mail you with any findings. I can’t say I’ve successfully located this guy but he was spotted recently on this security camera. I’ve attached a picture.’

I hold my breath and click on the picture. Part of me wants there to be some mistake. Maybe my father’s been arrested and is back in jail where he belongs and I just haven’t heard about it yet. Maybe they forgot to call me.

But there’s no mistake. Even though it’s been years since I last saw him and the black and white security footage is grainy, I can still recognize the man frozen on the image at the gas station. It’s like seeing a ghost.

I zoom out to see the unmistakable background of the city. My father would have only one reason to be here. He’s looking for me. And if this image timestamped two days ago is any indication, he’s too close for comfort. He could be at my doorstep any minute. 

I close my computer, almost excepting to hear a knock at my door and hear my father’s voice. I go check my locks again before sliding into bed. I can’t sleep, only seeing the security footage of my father when I close my eyes. It makes me so angry to know that all the work I did to escape him could be for nothing. I can never escape him.

First thing in the morning I call Andrew. He sounds like I woke him up. “Neil?” 

“I need to see you,” I tell him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “But it’s kind of important.”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting for you.”

I hurry over to his house, watching the whole way for any sign of my father. I feel safer inside Andrew’s house. I hand him the security photo. “My father’s getting closer to finding me,” I tell him.

“Shit…” he scowls at the image. “I can have someone stick around you, keep you safe, watch for trouble.”

“Like a body guard?” I ask.

It sounds absurd. But everything about this situation is kind of absurd.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Neil.”

He abruptly pulls me into his arms. I remember all of the warnings about Andrew Minyard. I remember how he talks a big game. But standing here now in his embrace I am sure of one thing: Andrew may think that he is a weapon, his family may have tried to make him one, but he isn’t a weapon- he is a shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback! I'm so glad to know you are enjoying this story and have stuck with me. I should be updating fairly often again as long as I still have people interested in reading :)


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback means so much to me! Thank you! I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Now that I know my father’s in the same city as me, it’s hard not to feel as if he’s around every corner just waiting for me. I keep thinking I see him at the grocery store or at the gas station out of the corner of my eyes and it’s like my heart stops for a second. I question my every move- is that car following me… could it be him… will he be waiting for me outside my apartment building? I hate being paranoid this way, waiting for the ticking bomb to detonate at any moment.

I hate him and I hate that he can make me feel his way. I’ve come so far but still ended up in the same place as I started. It’s all been for nothing. I’m vulnerable and afraid which I hate most of all. 

“A storm’s coming,” the cashier says as I pay for my cigarettes.

It sounds more ominous than it would normally. A storm really is coming, I think to myself. I’ll never be ready for this. I feel sick, can’t eat and can’t sleep. Part of me keeps hoping that he’ll get caught and go back to jail and this will all be like a bad dream. How can he be evading the police for so long? But I know better than to get my hopes up for anything in life.

I go to Eden’s Twilight and order straight whiskey. I relish the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat. I need a strong drink tonight just to soothe my nerves.

“You look like you haven’t slept in fifty years,” Nicky observes.

“Thanks,” I reply dryly. “I haven’t.”

“Have you tried smoking some weed? I can hook you up.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, Nicky.”

I’m not interested in marijuana personally and it’s not a big enough crime to take down their whole criminal organization either.

“Neil,” Andrew says with relief in his voice, as if he’s been worried about me the whole day. Has he been? Surely that’s impossible. Why would he worry so much about me? I’m no one important. If I disappear nothing will change for him, he’d still have his family and his business. There’s no reason to worry about me. Andrew hurries over to sit next to me. “You alright?” he asks me.   
I don’t give his stupid question an answer, just silently motion to Nicky for another drink.

“You should let me have one of my guys follow you,” he insists. 

“I don’t need a body guard,” I tell him. What I mean is I don’t need one of his criminal associates following me around. Not only is that bad news in general, it would ruin my cover as a private investigator. I don’t want Andrew or any strange criminals at my apartment. Besides, this isn’t Andrew’s battle to fight. I don’t need to owe him anything. I don’t like that at all.

“If anyone touches you I swear they’re going to fucking regret it,” Andrew threatens, his hands clenching into fists.

I don’t even flinch. I know that I don’t have to be afraid of Andrew’s anger. He’ll use it to protect me. He wouldn’t hurt me. At least as long as he continues to have trust in me. Until he finds out who I really am.

“Why haven’t you found him yet?” Andrew questions his cousin. “Can’t we do anything about this motherfucker?”

“I don’t know, I’ve tried,” Nicky replies.

“You always know everything about everyone. Someone has to have seen this guy.”

Nicky doesn’t know everything though. If that were true then it wouldn’t help me, it would be my death sentence. Though with my father on the loose I’m probably as good as dead anyway.

“I’ll keep trying,” Nicky promises. I wonder if he’s just saying that or if he actually means it. I doubt it will do any good.

Andrew argues with me about driving me home. In the end I compromise by letting him pay for an Uber. I’m too tired and too tipsy to protest. 

I stumble into my apartment, nearly missing the piece of paper that was slipped under my door. It’s a dirty piece of notebook paper, wrinkled and haphazardly torn from a notebook. In blue pen and large sloppy handwriting the message on it says ‘FOUND YOU.’

Sheer terror rushes through me like electricity. Time slows. The room spins. I manage a few unsteady steps and throw up in my kitchen sink. Even after my stomach has expelled all of the alcohol I drank tonight, I continue dry heaving and choking, gasping for air. 

Finally I have enough sense to reach for my gun and I start checking my apartment for any signs of a break-in. I search every corner for anybody who could be hiding in the shadows. I hold my breath, yanking back the shower curtain with one hand, gripping my gun with the other hand. But there’s no one there. No sign of any intruder.

I clean the kitchen sink in a hurry then throw some clothes into a backpack along with my laptop. I can’t stay here. My apartment is no longer safe. My location is compromised. He’s found me. My worst nightmare is coming true.

I don’t know where he is. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. He’s not outside my apartment when I leave. As the uber takes me to a hotel, I stare out the window, watching for my father. Where is he? When is he going to make his move? I feel like I could lose my mind over this before it’s over. How long can I keep this up? How long can I stay in fight or flight survival mode? The lack of sleep and sense of impending doom is wearing me down. Even in the hotel I don’t feel safe but I manage a couple hours of sleep out of pure exhaustion.

The sound of my cell phone startles me awake. I reach for my gun automatically before I’m even fully conscious. I look around the hotel room, realizing that I’m not in any immediate danger, and relax a little. I grab my phone and listen to the voicemail.

“Neil, I’ve got the results back that you asked for.” It’s one of Wymack’s associates, one I contacted about Allison’s missing person’s case. “The car didn’t turn up any evidence.”

I sigh defeatedly. That’s no good. It feels like a dead end. I don’t know what to do next with no leads to follow. I wish Frank was here. I could really use some of his advice right about now. He always seemed to know what to do. I’ll never be as good at this as he was. How can I ever hope to make his investigations business successful at this rate? I don’t know why he had so much faith in me and left his business to me.

I pull my computer out and try to follow up on some cases for Wymack Investigations. It’s difficult to focus on anything though. After an hour I give up and turn the television on, browsing the movie channels hoping for a good distraction.

By noon I’m feeling terribly restless. I keep peeking through the blinds on the window, looking for any signs of my father on the street. I check the weather forecast, seeing that the thunder storm is supposed to start soon any minute. I can only hope that it slows my father down.

I’m beginning to feel like a sitting duck. I am like a fly stuck in a spider’s web just waiting for the hungry spider to come along and eat me alive.

I finally give in and pick up my burner phone, hitting Andrew’s number. He answers on the third ring. “Neil, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” I ask him. I can’t stay in the hotel room any longer, especially with the threat of a storm that will trap me in here for who knows how long.

“Closing up Eden’s Twilight now before the storm, where are you?”

“Around,” I say. “I got some information about Allison’s case and thought maybe we could meet up?”

I could just tell him over the phone but I don’t really want to be alone right now. I’ll take the excuse to see him and run with it.

“Yeah, meet me at my house in half an hour.”

“See you there.”

I check out of the hotel and get an Uber back to my car before heading to Andrew’s house. I leave my laptop locked in the trunk but bring in a change of clothes in my backpack. It’s already starting to rain so I probably won’t be leaving Andrew’s house anytime soon which sounds alright to me. It’s the only place that I know I’m safe.

“I stopped and got a pizza on the way home,” Andrew informs me when I walk in. “Eat.”

The pizza sounds pretty good considering I can’t remember the last time I ate any food. We sit on his couch. He hands me a can of soda and I make myself comfortable devouring several slices of pepperoni pizza. This city might be pretty shitty but they do make great pizza.

Andrew patiently waits until I’m done eating before he asks me about Allison. “What did you hear?”

“I hacked into the police files,” I lie. I can’t very well tell him how I really got the info. “There wasn’t any good evidence uncovered in Allison’s car. No suspicious fingerprints or DNA and no blood.”

“Shit…” He looks totally crushed. Maybe he really does care about Allison and her wellbeing. Either that or she’s important to his crime organization, which is also quite possible. I wish I could ask him what role she played in their crimes, because it could give me a clue about what happened to her, but I can’t think of a good way to bring it up.

“Do you have any other ideas?” I ask him. “Any other leads I can help you look into? Anything at all that you might have remembered? Anyone who could have wanted to hurt her for whatever reason or any reason she might have wanted to run away without telling anyone?”

Andrew shakes his head. “No, nothing. I wish I had an idea.”

“Alright,” I say. “If you think of anything later on you can let me know. I want to help however I can.”

“I appreciate it. It means a lot that you want to help when you don’t even know Allison.”

“Of course,” I tell him. “I’m your friend and that’s what friends do, right? They help each other out.”

He smiles a little in response. “Definitely. How are you doing lately? Any sign of you-know-who?”

I don’t think that just saying my father’s name could conjure him up like a spell or anything. I know that I’m safe here. “When I went home last night there was a note under my apartment door. It said ‘Found you.’ It was my father’s handwriting. I can still recognize it.”

“Fuck!” Andrew curses loudly. “How did he even get into the building? Don’t you have to be buzzed in or anything?”

“The buzzer’s been broken for a long time now,” I say.

“And no one’s fixed it?”

I shrug. It’s not that unusual for a shitty apartment like mine. You can’t really expect too much better.

“You should stay here tonight,” Andrew suggests. “It’s not good to go out in the storm anyway. You might as well stay here where you’re safe.”

“Okay,” I agree. I can’t argue with that logic.

Andrew puts a random comedy movie on and brings in a big bowl of popcorn. It’s a relief to be able to relax and munch on popcorn, not afraid for once since my father has escaped prison. I momentarily forget about him and enjoy being warm and safe.

Andrew moves closer at some point throughout the movie so that his thigh is touching mine. His hand comes to rest on my knee. I don’t feel uncomfortable though. It actually feels kind of nice.

I turn my head and all of a sudden his face is so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. How long had he been watching me instead of the movie? Then his lips are pressed to mine and I forget everything on my mind.

I don’t hesitate to kiss him back, thinking about nothing except how good it feels. This is exactly what I need right now. He moves to straddle me and his fingers tangle in my short hair, tugging lightly.

I can’t help but moan quietly into the kiss. He moves his lips to my neck and I let out a gasp of pleasure. “Andrew,” I say breathlessly.

“Neil,” he says, starting to pull my hoodie and shirt off over my head. “I want you so badly.”

He guides me to lay down on the couch and starts kissing his way down my body, fingers tracing my countless scars.

“Wait!” I sit up so abruptly that he nearly falls onto the floor. He catches himself and moves to sit beside me instead.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…” I’m not sure. It’s hard to put my feelings into words. I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures me. “It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I appreciate that. It’s comforting to hear him say that. “It’s just… there’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“I understand.”

Even though kissing him felt good and made me monetarily forget about my worries, it’s still difficult to completely put it all out of my mind. It’s difficult to get into a heavy make-out session when I feel like my father’s about to hunt me down and murder me at any moment.

I move in to kiss him again and he kisses me back gently, settling for holding me close instead of feeling me up. I put my shirt back on and we finish watching the movie, his arm draped over my shoulders. I’m half asleep when he guides me to his bed. He pulls the blankets up over me and I close my eyes, drifting off into a peaceful blissful sleep.


End file.
